Devil's Game
by Takashidaimao
Summary: The Great Saiyaman's attempt to save those in need ends in disaster. However, even after discarding his superhero identity, Gohan finds himself tangled in a dangerous game between Piccolo and an old nemesis.
1. The Death of a Hero

It was an odd request, that much was certain. One Gohan hadn't expected from Videl. "A bodyguard job?" The Saiyan teen repeated, turning away from his open locker to stare at Videl with a perplexed look on his face. The girl nodded. "That's right. The CEO of ArmsLab wants the Great Saiyaman to watch his back for a few days or so. Normally, I'd say it was a waste of time catering to some rich bastard's paranoid request, but what with all that's been happening lately..." Videl trailed off there. There was no need for her to finish. Gohan knew exactly what she was talking about. Six months ago, after they had wished that everyone on Earth would forget about the Buu incident, something strange started to happen. Heads of companies and their higher ranking employees began dying one by one. All murdered. What was truly frightening was that in every single murder, there wasn't a shred of evidence linking the investigators to a suspect. Not once. Some of them occurred in broad daylight. No one saw a thing. One was even caught on camera, but, alas, the shooter was out of frame. Even the bullets couldn't be traced. The ballistic markings weren't on any record, nor were the type of bullets. This man, whoever he was, was good. Damn good. Almost like a professional assassin. The CEO of a weapons research and development company wouldn't be an unlikely target.

"Huh... The head of a bank, a hospital, a customs agency, and now a weapons lab..." Gohan thought out loud as he closed his locker and slung his bag over his shoulder. Then, he thought of something. "You'd think a guy with so many weapons wouldn't need a bodyguard, huh?" he joked, letting out a small chuckle. Apparently, Videl didn't think it so funny. She folded her arms across her chest and glared at the Saiyan until he slowly stopped laughing at his own lame joke and stared down at his feet, blushing. "Ahem... Yeah, umm... Sorry..." he mumbled before returning to the subject at hand, his face still a bit red out of embarrassment. "So, anyway... when are we supposed to go over there? After school?"

At that question, Videl raised an eyebrow. "Yes, Gohan. After school. We're going to leave him sitting in his office during the day and at night so you don't miss school, homework, or your precious beddy-bye time." she replied through gritted teeth, her voice practically dripping with sarcasm. Of course, being a descendant of Son Goku, Gohan didn't pick up on it at all. "Wow, really? That's pretty convenie-" His dumb-ass reply was interrupted by a paper being shoved in his face by a very impatient looking Videl. He blinked momentarily before focusing his eyes enough to read what it said. "'Excused for the next two weeks'? B-but I'll miss so much school!" the Saiyan teen whined, knowing his mother would have a cow if she heard of him missing even one day of school. "H-hey, c'mon... Ya really think this is a job for the Great Saiyaman? I mean, it's just one guy. Don't you think maybe the 'Great Saiyagirl' can handle something like this on her own?" he hinted with a small wink, nudging her in the arm a bit. In truth, he'd face an assassin over his angry mother any day, but taking this job meant doing both. Not something he looked forward to. Videl's eye twitched a bit at Gohan's sudden cowardice. "You're going and that's final!" she shrieked, catching the attention of the few remaining students in the hall just before she grabbed his wrist and dragged him up the stairs to the roof.

Once there, she shoved him out onto the roof and pressed the button on her watch to make her Great Saiyagirl costume appear on her body. She then reached over and pressed the button on Gohan's watch, turning him into the Great Saiyaman. The costumed hero let out a groan. "You're really serious about this, aren't you?" he whined back over his shoulder just before Videl placed a good strong kick against his back to send him over the edge of the roof. Gohan let out another small groan as he plummeted to the ground. "This sucks..." he grumbled before taking off into the sky just in time to avoid hitting the concrete below. Videl quickly caught up and the two of them took off to West City to meet with the CEO of ArmsLab.

As they flew, Gohan could be heard grumbling to himself about his mother killing him for this. However, something else was on his mind. There were still a lot of evil people in the world. His and Videl's work fighting crime hadn't slowed down one bit after the whole thing with Buu was over. But hadn't Dende wished that everyone would be brought back to life except the evil ones? Had Porunga made a mistake? Did he have a different view on what is evil or not? Or had he simply chosen to treat everyone as equals and revive them all? "No, that can't be... Bobity's still dead..." he thought out loud, catching Videl's attention. "What was that?" she asked, bringing his head out of the clouds. "Huh? Oh. It's nothing important..."

Not long after that, the two of them reached West City, and the Headquarters for ArmsLab. As the two of them landed in front of the main entrance, Gohan stared up at the sky scraper towering before him. "Wow! It's huge!" he exclaimed, shielding his eyes as he looked up, trying to see the top. Just as his eyes could almost catch a glimpse of the very top, there was an explosion of movement around him. His ears caught what his eyes hadn't the time to see; the thundering roar of over a dozen pairs of boots running towards them and shuffling to a stop, the metallic clicks and rattles of firearms being loaded and aimed, and, of course, the same announcement repeatedly shouted from muffled mouths. "Intruders!" Slowly looking back down to the situation at hand, Gohan confirmed what he'd already assumed; they'd been surrounded. Now trapping the two high school superheroes in a loose circle formation was a squad of fourteen men in camouflage uniforms, their faces hidden behind gas masks. They all carried tear gas grenades on their belts, but none of them were wielding the non-lethal weapons at the moment. They all held assault rifles in their hands. You know, of the more lethal variety. All of them aimed for the two teen's heads. Gohan gritted his teeth. This was bad. Surely he'd be able to disarm them without fear of getting hurt by their bullets, but the second he so much as twitched a muscle, he knew they'd all fire, killing Videl in the process._ This is bad... _Gohan thought. _Didn't they know we were coming? This has to be some kind of misunderstanding. Or... Could this be a trap? Could they have lured us here just to get us out of the way? Are they the ones behind all this?_ These and a million other questions ran through the teen's head as he tried desperately to figure out a way out of this situation. It was all so frustrating! How could they have been tricked like this? As he slowly grew more angry at the situation, as well as himself for being so foolish, he unconsciously balled up his fists and glared at the soldier in front of him. Unfortunately, this registered as a threat to the guards. He could practically hear their trigger fingers tighten. Letting out a gasp, Gohan snapped his eyes shut. _There's not enough time! Dammit! What did I do to deserve this?_ As he thought this, he waited for the inevitable sound of a dozen or so guns firing. However...

"Hold your fire! Stand down immediately!" What was this? The voice of an angel, perhaps? Well, whoever he was, Gohan now considered him to be one. When he heard the sound of several guns being lowered, the Saiyan chanced a peek at his new guardian angel. He looked to be a young scientist in his twenties, though his long hair was already gray. After he jogged his way over and pushed through the ring of guards surrounding the two, he adjusted his glasses and attempted to catch his breath. "M-my word... Such brutes... So eager to pull the trigger, are you?" he managed to gasp out before standing straight and making himself presentable. "Now then... Terribly sorry about that. What with the recent threat, we've had no choice but to put security on maximum alert. It'd be a disaster if any unauthorized personnel were to get their grubby little hands on the experimental technology inside." the man said, shooing away the guards with his hands. Gohan and Videl both let out a sigh of relief as the guards backed off. Gohan looked to the man with gratitude, though he was somewhat embarrassed that he'd jumped to a rather wild conclusion a moment ago. "Thanks a lot. I thought we were goners... So, you must be the CEO, right? I'm-" he paused suddenly, clearing his throat and preparing his superhero voice. "I'm the Great Saiyaman! Defender of justice and all that is good!" he announced, giving a series of ridiculous, unnecessary poses worthy of the Ginyu Force. Videl clapped excitedly at the display while the scientist merely stared, his glasses falling down the bridge of his nose to reveal a pair of bright green eyes. After a moment, he cleared his throat and fixed his glasses again. "Ermm... No, heavens no, I'm not the CEO. I'm merely the chief scientist of this facility. Auguste DeLourme. I'd appreciate it if you called me Dr. DeLourme, however. Formalities, and all that." he explained with a small smile, extending his hand for them to shake, which they did in turn. "Right then, shall I take you to see the boss?" Dr. DeLourme asked, turning towards the building and leading them inside.

As they made it through the entrance, Gohan couldn't help but stare straight up again. The core of the main building was hollow. He could see almost halfway up the inside of the skyscraper until he glimpsed the first possible ceiling. It looked a lot like the building in that one movie he saw not long ago. Something about robots and a cop... Wasn't Will Smith in that one? Oh, he couldn't remember. It wasn't important. After getting his fill of the floors above, he then decided to examine the one they were currently walking through. Everything was perfectly white. Sterile. Like a hospital. That fact gave Gohan chills. He wasn't fond of hospitals. One thing did seem out of place in this sea of pristine white. The security guards, the same as the ones outside. Their camouflage uniforms really stood out against all that white, though he figured it was more practical for quickly changing posts from one area to the next if they only had the one uniform. What really bothered him was that a lot of them were staring at the two costumed teens, chuckling and shaking their heads at how ridiculous they looked. Of course, Gohan was oblivious to the real reason they were laughing, as he had no idea it looked horrible to anyone with even a minimal fashion sense.

Eventually the two of them were lead to an elevator by the scientist and were taken all the way up to the top floor. Gohan spent the whole ride with his face pressed against the glass wall, watching in awe as each floor passed them by. Videl let out a sigh and shook her head a bit, having forgotten he was such a country boy. Elevators had stopped amusing her by age eight. Soon enough, the elevator came to a stop at the top floor. A small frown formed on Gohans face, somewhat disappointed that it was over already. As he exited, however, he remembered the real reason they had come and returned to his more serious face. Before them was a long corridor, only one door visible on it's walls; the one at the very end. Lining the walls along the hall were the same guards they'd seen posted both inside and outside the building, only these were equipped with heavier body armor and a different kind of rifle, a type he was sure he'd never seen before. Gohan's brow furrowed in thought as they passed them by, each of the soldiers eyes locked on them as they went. "With all this security, you'd think he was expecting Solid Snake or something... And he still needs us?" Gohan asked in a low voice, leaning down to whisper in Videl's ear. "Don't let it bug you. He's probably just overly paranoid." she replied, thinking that was the end of it. It wasn't, however, as Gohan seemed to have found his brain. "But there's practically an army here! Is this really all to keep one guy out? Just exactly why are we here again?" he retorted, though he seemed to have forgotten how to whisper this time. Dr. DeLourme stopped suddenly and glanced back over his shoulder.

"Surely you are not planning on abandoning your duty to the people... Is this man any less worthy of your protection simply because he has others to guard him? Or better yet, are these guards not worthy of your protection simply because they are here to protect someone else? That's rather smug of you, picking and choosing those you wish to defend..." The scientist narrowed his acid green eyes a bit as he said that, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose once again. Gohan didn't reply. He merely looked down at his shoes, mumbling apologetically under his breath. What the man said was true. This CEO guy had called them for help, and he deserved it, just like everyone else. He just couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong with the whole situation.

Finally, they reached the CEO's office. The door looked just as plain and spotless white as everything else in the building. Sure enough, once Dr. DeLourme opened the door, they were greeted to another room of pure white. Even the furniture was all white. The back wall in particular grabbed Gohan's eye. It was nothing but a large window to the outside. "Wow, this guy sure likes to keep the place clean, huh..." Gohan commented with a nervous laugh. It warranted no reply, however, as the others were too concerned with the man that now approached them from behind his desk. He was a short, older man, wearing a long white coat and a nervous look on his face. His fine, receding hair, like everything else in the building, was pure white. Dr. DeLourme turned to the two of them. "This is the CEO of ArmsLab, Dr. Kaoru Shiroi." he introduced, stepping to the side so that the three could exchange their customary handshakes. "It's a relief to finally have you here, Mr. Saiyaman." Dr. Shiroi said with a warm smile as he shook Gohan's hand. It made the Saiyan teen relax a bit. Well, he certainly seemed like a nice man. He cleared his throat again, preparing his hero voice. "Of course, sir! The Great Saiyaman is always there to help when he is needed!" he announced, causing Dr. DeLourme's eye to twitch slightly in mild annoyance. "Well then... I hate to cut our greetings short, but there_ is_ work to be done. I'm afraid both Dr. Shiroi and I must return to our research." the younger scientist said as he lead the two out again. Gohan glanced back over his shoulder at Dr. Shiroi, who'd already returned to his desk, before exiting.

"Now then..." Dr. DeLourme began. "Mr. Great Saiyaman, if you wouldn't mind, we'd like you to stay here, guarding the door to the CEO's office. Ms. Saiyagirl here is needed elsewhere." Gohan looked up again when he heard that. They were to be separated? But that wasn't fair! He had to protect Videl, too! "But wouldn't it make more sense for both of us to stand guard here?" he asked, trying to weasel his way around this guy's planning. Unfortunately, it was no use. Dr. DeLourme shook his head. "I'm sorry, but there is another strategic point I'd like her to guard. You, however, need to remain here." he replied before turning to leave the hall with Videl in tow. The elevator doors closed before Gohan could protest further.

The afternoon dragged on into the night with nothing at all happening. Every now and then, Dr. DeLourme would return to bring something to the CEO's office. The last time Gohan had seen him was when he was bringing him dinner. It seemed Dr. Shiroi wasn't planning on leaving any time soon. He must have been working on something pretty important. It seemed he was the type of executive that still toiled away at projects normally delegated to lower staff members, despite his status in the company. That was rare these days. That, or he was too afraid to leave. Still, there didn't seem to be anything happening at all. Even the guards posted along the walls seemed to be getting bored. The two closest to him had taken up whispering to each other about what they were planning to do with their next days off. Sleeping in sounded pretty good to Gohan, too. At around midnight, the Saiyan teen let out a big yawn, rubbing the tiredness from his eyes under his sunglasses. Honestly, it didn't look like anything was going to happen. He started thinking that perhaps this Dr. Shiroi guy was just being paranoid again.

Another half hour passed before the elevator doors opened again. However, this time it wasn't Dr. DeLourme. It was one of the guards from downstairs, one that seemed quite a bit taller than all the rest. At first, Gohan didn't think very much of it. He figured he was here merely to relieve one of the other guards in the hall. However, that assumption was soon proven false. Just as the guard passed the halfway point in the hall, all of the tear gas grenades attached to his belt suddenly exploded at once, filling the hall instantly with a thick cloud of irritating smoke. The guards, though protected from the effects of the gas by their gas masks, couldn't see through the thick fog that now covered every corner of the hall. They all went into a confused panic, calling for back up on their radios and trying desperately to navigate through the smoke. Gohan wasn't quite as lucky, however. The gas had irritated his eyes to where he wouldn't dare open them. It had instantly filled his lungs when he tried to take a breath, leaving him hunched over in a coughing fit.

As he coughed and wheezed there for a moment, he felt someone push past him, then smelled a sudden burst of fresh air behind him. Someone had made their way into the CEO's office. More out of concern for Dr. Shiroi than anything else, he escaped the gas filled hall into the office, but just a moment too late. The second he ran through the doorway, he heard a shot being fired. Fearing the worst, Gohan tried desperately to open his eyes. Though he managed to keep them slightly open, his vision was severely obscured by the tears that gas had caused to pour from his eyes. He could only barely make out the puddle of red than now stained the pure white of the room, along with the blurry figure standing over it. At that moment, Gohan felt a deep rage building up inside him. That man had asked him to protect him! Asked him to save him! And he failed. Dr. Shiroi had been killed, effortlessly, right in front of him. The unknown assassin instinctively turned his gun on Gohan, but seemed to hesitate. At that moment, the enraged Saiyan sprinted forward and aimed a punch at where he assumed the man's obscured, hidden face was supposed to be. However, he hit nothing. Had he missed? No, despite his impaired vision, he was sure he'd hit his mark. So… He'd dodged? But how was that possible? As Gohan's momentum caused him to stumble forward a bit, the unknown assailant delivered a powerful kick to the back of the boy's head, sending him sailing through the windows, the Saiyan's skull shattering the reinforced glass.

As Gohan hung there in mid-air for a moment among the shards of glass, he tried as hard as he could to make sense of what had just happened. Had that assassin really just overpowered him? Had he really gotten that slow? It all happened so fast, he thought it impossible. And he could do nothing about it. As he plummeted to the ground, he became lightheaded. It wasn't fair. How was he to know he'd be facing someone like that? He thought it was going to be just a normal human, if anything at all. His eyes slowly began to close. That man was still out there, though. He'd continue killing like this. But he had to stop him! He just had to! He couldn't fail another person... Gradually, everything became black as he passed out in mid-air. The last thing he could remember was coming to a sudden, abrupt stop.

The only sensation Gohan felt after that was a sharp, stabbing pain in his head just intense enough to pull him back into consciousness. He pressed a hand against his forehead in a futile attempt to stop the throbbing. Of course, in a way, he was glad. Pain meant he was still alive. As he opened his eyes, he expected to see the bright red and blue lights of police cars and ambulances flashing off every surface around him in the night air. He didn't see any of that, nor did he see the accompanying paramedics that would have surely been hovering around him, cleaning his splattered brains off the pavement. So, it wasn't _that_ soon afterward…

What he did see was a solid white ceiling with a fan directly above him. He was lying in a bed somewhere. The hospital? No, it didn't smell quite so sterile. It smelled more of… Well… He couldn't quite place it, but the room held a very familiar scent to it, especially the pillows his head was resting on. Whatever it was, it had almost a calming effect on the young Saiyan, and even seemed to dull his headache slightly. He even unconsciously rolled over on his side so he could bury his face better in the pillowcase and almost fell back asleep.

Suddenly, just before his mind slipped away from him again, he sat bolt upright, remembering what had happened. "Dr. Shiroi!" he shouted, his eyes darting around as if looking for the executive. Of course, he saw no one. The room was empty except for basic furniture, all other items having been neatly put away. It was a plain room, but nowhere near the almost blinding sterile white of the ArmsLab facility. It wasn't his own room either, so the chances of all that just being a dream were probably zero.

Coming to that realization, Gohan shoved his face into his hands. Dr. Shiroi was gone. He'd been murdered. And what's worse, it was right in front of his eyes. He was right there! Yet… He'd been absolutely useless to stop it. He let out a heavy sigh. It was all his fault… He'd been so naïve, so cocky… And that assassin took full advantage of it. It was almost as if having "The Great Saiyaman" there wasn't even an inconvenience to him.

"'Great Saiyaman', huh? What a joke…" he grumbled, reaching for the collar of his costume. Did he even deserve to call himself a hero after all that? He was almost tempted to rip off his beloved costume when his hand touched bare flesh where there should have been a shirt. Wait a minute… He glanced down at himself, hoping he was just imagining what he'd felt. He saw only his naked skin until it disappeared beneath the covers at his waist. All the color seemed to drain from Gohan's face at once. Letting out a small gasp, he quickly pulled back the covers. Much to his relief, he wasn't completely naked. He was wearing a pair of plain blue jeans, though he was certain they weren't any of his own. Of course, knowing that only caused his anxiety to return. Had someone undressed him from his Saiyaman costume and put him in this while he was unconscious? So, not only was he in some strange person's house, sleeping in a strange person's bed, but this same strange person had undressed him from his superhero costume and put him in their own clothes? Well, that certainly gave him more than enough reason to freak the fuck out! Not even wanting to fathom what sort of person now held him captive, he jumped out of bed and scrambled for the nearest window before…

"What do you think you are doing?" Gohan froze just before he had the chance to swing his leg out of the now open window. Ah, so close, yet so far. Letting out a small groan, the Saiyan teen grudgingly turned to face his captor. Well, if he wasn't dead already, surely he would be now… However, the person his eyes met wasn't who he expected at all.

"P-Piccolo-san?" Gohan stammered out with an utterly bewildered look on his face. Could it really be him? He rubbed his eyes, just to make sure they weren't still clouded from the tear gas. Sure enough, there stood his old mentor, staring back at him with the expression of a parent watching their child doing something asinine. As the Namekian shook his head a bit and walked past to place a glass of water on the nightstand beside him, Gohan couldn't help but stare. Piccolo wore a plain black sweatshirt tucked neatly into a pair of blue jeans. Human clothes? That was strange… He couldn't remember the last time Piccolo wore human clothes of his own free will. Of course, It was certainly better than what he'd been forced to borrow from his father that one time.

The relief of the moment was short lived, however. "What were you doing at ArmsLab?" The question caught Gohan a little off guard. Had he heard that correctly? Looking up, the young Saiyan met Piccolo's deadly serious gaze. Yes he had. Wait, did that mean…"Piccolo-san, you were there?" Gohan asked, raising an eyebrow. Before he could speculate as to why his old teacher was at the scene of the crime, Piccolo nodded in admission. "Of course I was. I was watching the whole thing. How else could I have caught you before you hit the ground?"

Gohan nodded slowly, rubbing the sizable lump on the back of his head. He'd almost hoped he _had_ hit the ground. Otherwise it just meant that assassin's single kick was _completely_ responsible for his still pounding headache. Of course, Piccolo would have seen that part too, wouldn't he? Letting out a heavy sigh, Gohan plopped back down on the bed, staring down at his feet. "I-I'm a complete failure, aren't I?" he began as tears started to well up in his eyes. "I tried to protect him…I promised nothing would happen to him, but look! He's dead now because of me!" Gohan sobbed, unable to contain himself any longer. Piccolo placed a hand gently on his student's shoulder. The young Saiyan looked up at him, tears streaming relentlessly down his cheeks. Piccolo's face remained unchanged, stern as ever, but Gohan was sure he was about to offer him some comforting words. He'd tell him that it was okay. He'd tell him he'd done all he could…

"You will no longer act as the Great Saiyaman. Understood?" Gohan's eyes widened a bit. This was some kind of joke, right? It had to be! But… Piccolo's expression never wavered. He seriously intended for him to retire? He couldn't do that! It wasn't in his nature to just stand by while others needed his help. That's why he needed the Great Saiyaman, to keep his true identity a secret while he did his job. He was like Batman, and the world was his Gotham! "B-but I can't! What if someone needs my help? Everyone forgot who I really was when we wished that they'd forget about Majin Buu! They still don't know it's me!" Gohan protested. The reply came far too quickly, however.

"All the more reason for you to stop now." Piccolo retorted as calmly as ever. He'd forgotten just how hard it was to argue with a Namekian. If his superior knowledge didn't win, his stubbornness certainly would. Before Gohan had the chance to argue further, Piccolo had quickly left the room. The young Saiyan gritted his teeth. Was he just planning on walking away and leaving it at that? He wouldn't let it end like that! Just as he stood up to pursue his mentor out to the hall, Piccolo returned with a newspaper tucked under his arm, tossing it on the bed without saying a word. Even from a distance Gohan recognized the picture of Dr. Shiroi on the front. He immediately picked it up and read silently to himself.

'Dr. Kaoru Shiroi, CEO of the major weapons research and Development company ArmsLab, was murdered early Wednesday morning at his office in West City. The cause of death was a point-blank gunshot wound to the head, resulting in immediate death. While police have not released any official statements regarding possible suspects, they have revealed that the ballistic markings from the bullet indicates that the murder weapon was a sidearm belonging to an ArmsLab Security Officer. However, just minutes after the shooting occurred, the Security Officer in question was found unconscious in a janitor closet, stripped of all equipment.

'Unofficially, the police are believed to be tracking down what may be their only lead: The Great Saiyaman. It has been confirmed by numerous sources that the vigilante superhero had been asked to guard Dr. Shiroi on the night of the shooting. However, many eye-witnesses claim they saw a figure wearing a red cape fall from the top floor of the building. While it is not yet confirmed that what they witnessed was indeed the Great Saiyaman, it is doubtful that even he could survive such a fall.'

Gohan didn't read any further. There was no need. It was clear they assumed him to be dead. And what would happen if they found out he was alive? He'd be the prime suspect. They'd drag 'The Great Saiyaman' through the mud until they figured out what happened, weather it was the truth or not. There's no way anyone would trust him after that, even if he was found innocent. Gohan felt absolutely hopeless.

"Do you understand now? It's in your best interest." Piccolo said once he was sure Gohan was finished reading. When he got no response, he let out a sigh. He'd done his best to resist until now, but that miserable look on the kid's face really got to him. Reaching into his pocket, the Namekian retrieved an odd looking watch and tossed it on the bed. Gohan recognized it immediately as the one containing his Great Saiyaman costume. "I'll leave it up to you. You may stay here as long as you like. Come find me if you need anything." And with that, Piccolo left the room for the second time, though it was clear he didn't intend to return a third. Alone once again, Gohan sat back down on the bed and stared at the watch for a long while. So… Was he really just going to let him choose?

After leaving Gohan to his decision, Piccolo made his way down the hall towards the backyard. Some fresh air after all that would do him some good. Suddenly, he came to an abrupt stop halfway down the hall. There was a door to his left, same as all the others in the house, but he stared at it with a contemplative look on his face. It was probably best to keep it locked while Gohan was there… He quickly waived a hand over the doorknob, which clicked in response, before he made his way out to the backyard.

It was a pleasant evening outside, the air growing ever cooler the lower the sun sank behind the trees. Piccolo would sit on the edge of his wooden deck, watching as darkness fell over the vast forest surrounding his secluded home. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. Normally, he wouldn't do this in front of anyone that knew him, but he was certain Gohan wouldn't come looking for him for at least long enough for him to have one. He placed one on his lips before forming a tiny fireball in the palm of his hand. The second he lit it, a thin stream of pale blue smoke drifted from the tip, carrying with it an odd but sweet scent. However, he had barely exhaled the first puff of smoke before he heard the door sliding open behind him. He didn't bother hiding what he was doing. It wasn't really that big a deal. He waited until the footsteps against the wood floor came to rest beside him, but when his guest didn't take a seat next to him, Piccolo looked up.

The setting sun cast a dark shadow over Gohan's down-turned face. He was still looking over that watch in his hand, as if he was still second guessing his decision. Piccolo could see the reluctance in the young Saiyan's face even through the shadows. Suddenly, there was a flash of light in the boy's palm as the watch exploded without warning. Gohan let out a heavy sigh and dropped his hand to his side, letting the remains of his life as a superhero slip through his fingers.

"The Great Saiyaman is dead… I suppose…" he said rather glumly, watching for a brief second as the ashes were carried away on the wind. It was much like a funeral to Gohan. Saiyaman had quickly become a part of who he was. Committing to bury him once and for all felt like ripping out part of his soul. Gohan glanced down towards his old mentor, who offered him a rare smile and nod of approval. He was glad the boy had made the right decision, no matter how painful it may have been. Of course, his smile faded as quickly as it had come.

"The offer to stay still stands. As I said before, you may do as you like." the Namekian reminded, earning little more than a nod from the half Saiyan. "I'm going back to bed now…" he added in a barely audible mumble as he turned away from the sunset and starting towards the door. Piccolo raised a brow, glancing over his shoulder. "Oh? But you've just barely woken up."

"Well, I've had enough of 'today' already… I eager for 'tomorrow'…" Gohan retorted before proceeding inside.


	2. The Child's New Toy

Gohan remained at Piccolo's house for the rest of the week. He'd already been excused for a full two weeks of school, so there was really nothing stopping him from taking a much needed break from everything. He truly dreaded going back to school after all that had happened. While everyone else had forgotten his true identity, there was still Videl to deal with. How would he explain where he'd been since the incident? More to the point, how was he to explain to her his sudden decision to abandon his superhero identity? Surely she'd just think he was running away… Of course, wasn't that exactly what he was doing? Had he really made the right decision when he destroyed his costume? These thoughts would plague him until he finally returned to face her…

His vacation wasn't completely composed of such depressing thoughts, though. The time he spent with Piccolo more than made up for the misery of thinking of what to say to everyone upon his return. It was very nostalgic, getting to spend night and day with his old mentor. It was almost like he was a kid again, but without the stress of attacking Saiyans on his shoulders. He also didn't have to sleep outside, but in the comfort of an old friend's house. The most pleasant surprise of all for Gohan came during his first meal there, where he discovered that the Namekian was actually a fantastic cook. Every night, there would be a dish placed before him that he'd never heard of before, from countries he'd only read about in old history books. It was a delightful experience for the young Saiyan, who gladly ate anything he was given, regardless of its origin.

The longer he stayed, however, the more a few things began to bother him. The whole smoking thing didn't bother Gohan at all. Bulma smoked, after all. As did Mr. Satan. Nor did he really care _what_ Piccolo was smoking, because it certainly didn't smell a thing like tobacco. The first thing he found himself concerned with was his current sleeping situation. As far as the teen knew, there was only one bed in the house; the one belonging to Piccolo. Gohan had slept there since he'd arrived, which made him feel like he was kicking his host out of his own bed. When Gohan had offered to just sleep on the couch, Piccolo insisted that he, being the guest, take the bed instead. Though, since he'd been there, Gohan couldn't remember ever seeing the Namekian sleep, on the couch or anywhere else. It seemed like he was always awake. And then there was the room…

The one room in the house Gohan was never shown. The one room that always remained securely locked, no matter what. When the Saiyan was finally curious enough to ask about it, Piccolo simply responded, "It's nothing important," and ended the conversation there. Piccolo himself only ever went in there occasionally, and only when he thought the boy wasn't watching.

Besides that, everything was about as normal as it could get for a pair of alien martial artists. Everyday before dinner they would have a sparring match. It was something they hadn't been able to do in over a year, which showed the most in the ever-closing gap in their power. While Gohan was always either at school or fighting insignificant criminals around Satan City, it seemed Piccolo was still doing the most intense training he could. The Saiyan wondered if he'd been motivated that much by the last battle with Buu, or if he'd been like this before. Either way, the Namekian's ever-increasing ability to get the best of the young Saiyan was proving somewhat aggravating.

The perfect example came late Friday afternoon. The two were engaged in their nightly sparring match, but it seemed Gohan wasn't doing quite as well as he normally did. Short of breath, the young Saiyan glared through the sweat dripping from his brow at the older Namekian before him, who'd hardly broken a sweat at all. Despite it just being a friendly game, Gohan felt himself growing increasingly angry at the state he was in. Why the hell was he so weak? Why was Piccolo able to effortlessly counter his attacks? Sure, he was his teacher, but Gohan thought he'd far surpassed him! With that last thought came a small pang of guilt. Well, that wasn't a very nice thing for him to say about his old teacher. But… Wasn't it true? Students surpassed their masters all the time, and he'd prove it again now!

Taking off at full throttle, Gohan charged at Piccolo with every ounce of strength he had left. One punch. That's all he needed to prove it to himself. All he needed to prove he was still the best, second only to his father himself. Most importantly, it would prove he could still fight, especially to protect someone. Pulling back his fist, he kept his eyes locked on Piccolo's. He didn't move an inch. He didn't even blink. The Saiyan's lips betrayed a small smirk. Ah, was he actually moving to fast for the Namekian to see? Perfect. This would be just the confidence boost he needed. Aiming his punch carefully, he thrust his fist directly between his targets' eyes. He knew he'd get him good. He just knew. He could even feel Piccolo's breath across his fingers the instant before impact.

The only thing he hit was open air. Gohan's eyes widened. He'd missed? No, that was impossible! Piccolo was right there! How in the hell could he have missed? The next thing he knew, there was what felt like a battering ram being slammed into the back of his head. Gohan's whole body lurched forward until his face made contact with the grass and dirt below, tumbling a few times before finally coming to a stop.

Gohan laid there for a long while, face down in the dirt. His head felt like it had been split open, and there was an annoying ringing in his ears. He felt himself becoming increasingly lightheaded, almost to the point of passing out. He could feel the impact of Piccolo's footsteps as they resonated through the ground and into his aching body, his heads' throbbing intensifying the closer he approached. Finally, they came to a stop just behind him.

"Such an ego has often been the downfall of great men. Haven't you learned from the mistakes of your predecessors?" Piccolo's deep, booming voice echoed around Gohan's aching head. The young Saiyan was unsure if his teacher was referring to himself or to the Saiyan race, but the question didn't rank very high on his list at the moment. Turning his head slowly, the boy exposed one wide, almost frightened looking eye to the Namekian towering above him. He opened his mouth to speak, but at first only chunks of dirt and grass came out. After coughing a few times, he seemed to have found his voice again.

"It was… the same…" Gohan wheezed out between coughs, cradling the back of his head in his palm as he picked himself up onto his hands and knees. Piccolo raised an eyebrow at the boy's incomplete statement. "That kick… It was the same as before!" Gohan hissed through gritted teeth as he glared up at the Namekian. Slowly, he staggered up to his feet, but fell forward and caught himself on Piccolo's gi. He could barely stand up, but he wouldn't let this go. It was far too important. "Why was it the same kick as that mans' before?"

Piccolo stared down into his young student's eyes for a long moment, as if searching in them for what to say. Then, he let out a sigh, shaking his head slightly. "Gohan… I thought I'd taught you better than that…" he replied, sounding somewhat disappointed. As usual, it wasn't the response Gohan was expecting. Piccolo continued, "You experience the same move that you have before, yet you practically fall apart afterwards? Had I mimicked Cell's punch, would you have frozen in fear? Had I tortured you in the same manner as Frieza, would you have cowered in terror? Or perhaps is this reaction merely because I used the same attack as one that had defeated you?"

Gohan released his hold on Piccolo's shirt, taking a wobbly step backward. He didn't know what to say to that. Was Piccolo really just mimicking that guy's movements to test him? And if he was… What exactly was he testing? His composure? His ability to react more quickly and effectively in the face of a technique he'd experienced before. Or was it perhaps… his trust? As Gohan could do nothing but stare stupidly at him, Piccolo let out another sigh, folding his arms across his chest.

"You should try to block these kinds of thoughts from your mind while in battle. Scatter your concentration between too many things and you become as easy to read as a children's book. Even Mr. Satan could have gotten the better of you in the form you were in today." The remark wasn't entirely true, but it would serve it's purpose. Hopefully that would light a fire under the boy's ass and get him back into a more productive mindset. In an unspoken gesture that designated the training session to be over, Piccolo strode past Gohan and back towards the house. The young Saiyan turned to follow when his knees suddenly gave out from under his weight. Before he could fall to the ground, however, Piccolo was there to catch him.

"Perhaps that was a bit too much head trauma for you for one week, eh?" The Namekian remarked, going so far as making a small joke to try to ease the boy's discomfort. He was admittedly hard on him today, especially with certain comments made. He started to feel that maybe he'd gone too far. Gohan looked up at his teacher as he pulled the young Saiyan's arm up around his neck. Seeing the Namekian's apologetic smile seemed to have been enough to earn the teen's forgiveness, as he immediately gave his own weak smile. Then, his vision started to blur again. Yep, he was almost positive he had a concussion now. As he fought to stay conscious, he could have sworn hearing something said about Dende. He couldn't catch any of it before his eyes closed on him.

"So, he doesn't have anything to do with that, right?" As Gohan's mind slowly drifted back into consciousness, he could begin making sense of the low, muffled voices of the two standing over him. He couldn't quite make out who they were yet. "Yeah, don't worry about it. I've managed to keep him relatively uninvolved so far." Ah, that one was definitely Piccolo. There was no mistaking that deep voice of his. Funny… It didn't make his head throb this time. In fact, his headache was all but gone now. "That's a relief… I'd hate to see what someone like that would do to him…" Wait… Was that Dende's voice? That's right, Piccolo must have taken him up to the Heavenly Realm to get healed. That explained the cold tiles he now felt under his head. "Don't worry. I don't intend to let that happen any time soon…"

As Gohan opened his eyes, the blurry form of the young Namekian God slowly took shape directly above him, with his predecessor standing off to the side. Seeing that the Saiyan had regained consciousness instantly brought a smile to Dende's face. "Good morning, Gohan. Sleep well?" the healer joked, offering a hand to help Gohan up to his feet. Once standing again, he instinctively rubbed the spot on the back of his head where he was hit, though there wasn't a lump to be found this time thanks to Dende. "Like a rock, thanks to Piccolo-san." he replied, giving the young Namekian a big smile. For once, even Piccolo let out a small chuckle at that one. Dende's laughter cut off abruptly, however, as he seemed to have remembered something important.

"Oh! That's right! Gohan, your Dad came looking for you the other day." Gohan's initial reaction was a look of surprise, but it quickly transformed into a look of dread. If his father had become worried enough to ask Kami-sama for help finding him, then God knows what kind of fit his mother had to be throwing at the moment! No pun intended, of course… He hadn't thought of that yet. He was so worried about what he'd say to Videl that he'd completely forgotten about the Wrath of Chi chi! Seeing the Saiyan's panic-stricken expression, Dende quickly added, "O-oh! But I told him you were okay and that you were staying with Piccolo for a while! He seemed to be okay with it, 'cause all he said after that was to tell you to hurry home as soon as you get the chance."

That didn't make Gohan feel that much better. Sure, now his father knew that he was safe, but he wasn't sure Goku was capable of weaving a convincing enough cover story to tell his mother. Especially if she'd seen the news recently… Slowly, and with the look of a child forced to do something he hated, Gohan turned to Piccolo. "I guess I really should head home now…" he groaned, staring at the floor. Why now? He'd never been able to stay with his old friend for so long since he was a kid. Why did he have to cut it short now? Piccolo shook his head at Gohan's child-like reaction, but still placed a comforting hand on the boy's shoulder.

"Why so sad? You know you can come back anytime you want. And now you know exactly where to find me." the Namekian assured, giving the boy a slight smile. This time, Gohan did feel quite a bit better, now that he'd heard that. A smile returning to his face, Gohan gave his teacher a firm nod. "I'll definitely do that! Thanks for everything, both of you." he replied, looking back at Dende as well. Giving them a wave, he ran towards the edge of the large floating platform and jumped off, taking off towards the East.

Piccolo stared off in the direction Gohan had flown long after he'd disappeared, letting out an unconscious sigh. He was pulled out of his uncharacteristic daydreaming trance when he heard a muffled giggle from behind him. Looking over his shoulder, he spotted Dende laughing to himself with his hand over his mouth, looking in his direction. "Ah, I didn't know you felt so strongly, _Piccolo-san_." the young guardian teased, mocking the way Gohan said his teacher's name. Piccolo narrowed his eyes slightly. "I try to curb such emotions when they arise. They're nothing but a distraction to me on a planet like this." he retorted rather coldly, as if warning Dende not to delve deeper on the subject. Dende was far too used to his often frigid demeanor by now, though. "Oh? But isn't Gohan different than most humans? Besides, he already knows you so well." At that, Piccolo's expression turned somewhat sad. "Well… There's another reason I have, for him in particular…"

The closer Gohan got to his home, the more his anxiety grew. Oh, his mother was going to be absolutely furious with him! Gone for a whole week without so much as a call, his superhero identity plastered all over the news as either the number one suspect in a murder case or it's latest victim, and as if_ that_ wasn't enough, he'd been hiding away at Piccolo's house for a whole week! Despite the time that had passed since the Namekian was officially 'evil', Chi chi was still very untrusting of him. And while she couldn't exactly forbid him to be around his former kidnapper, there was nothing stopping her from being mad about it. Oh, and she would, too. She was going to be positively _livid_ with him.

Just to be safe, Gohan touched down a good distance from his house, making sure he was just out of view. He then crouched low to the ground, taking a slow look around, scanning his surroundings. Was it at all possible his father or even Goten were still out training? He glanced over his shoulder in the direction he'd come from, his eyes meeting the just barely visible setting sun at his back. No way in hell. They'd be stuffing their faces right now. At the thought of food, Gohan's stomach let out a loud grumble. Damn, he was starving! He hadn't gotten to eat dinner at Piccolo's place before they had to make that trip to see Dende.

Now he had a real dilemma on his hands. Starve or face Chi chi's Wrath. It was a very hard decision to make, especially for a Saiyan. Of course, he really didn't have much of a choice here. He couldn't run away forever, after all. Besides… He sniffed the air. Oooooh, he could already smell his mother's Dim Sum! Gohan couldn't help but drool a bit. Perhaps if he begged for her forgiveness as he walked in the door she wouldn't send him to bed without dinner?

Goku and Goten were already at the dinner table, stuffing their faces with mouthful after mouthful of dumplings and rice. Chi chi couldn't help but wonder if they ever stopped to breathe. Like always, she was constantly running back and forth between the kitchen and the dinner table, fighting to keep the ravenous Saiyans' plates full. Gohan came stumbling through the front door just as she was taking the twentieth batch of Dim Sum was being placed on the table. "I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry! Please don't kill meeeee!" the Saiyan teen begged, sliding to a stop already on his knees in front of his mother. For the first time in what seemed like an hour, the other two males of the family looked up from their food, more curious to see what was going on than eating for a split second. Chi chi stared down at Gohan with the same look an executioner would give to a sinner on his chopping block. Goten immediately uttered a small "Uh oh…" to himself and crawled under the table to hide, lest he become collateral damage. Even Goku could be seen slouching in his chair a bit, making himself as little noticeable a target as physically possible. There was a long pause, in which Gohan could have died from the anticipation alone. He snapped his eyes shut and bowed his head as if to say 'just behead me an get it over with!'

What came out of his mother's mouth was not her usual banshee screaming, but a small sigh. Hesitantly, Gohan opened one eye, peeking up at what he was once again positive would be his doom. Chi chi had a small smile on her face. No… Not a smile. That was a smirk! It was a smirk that meant, having made her son practically shit his pants in fear before she'd even said a word to him, she'd done her job as a mother. "Go wash up and have some dinner, honey." she said nonchalantly as she placed the plate of dumplings on the table. What was this? Had the Angel of Death spared him? It must be a miracle! Not about to argue with his mother after all that, he hastily nodded and dashed up the stairs to do as he was told.

Soon enough, Gohan was back down at the dinner table, stuffing his face at the same unholy pace as his father and brother. Between mouthfuls, they somehow found time enough to converse with each other. "That was a pretty convincing stunt ya pulled there with your mother, Gohan. I should try something like that next time." Goku complimented before shoving another dumpling in his mouth. Gohan let out a nervous laugh. "Heh… Yeah, I just kinda wish it _was_ all an act, y'know? She almost scared the piss out of me. Literally!" he replied as he polished off his fifth bowl of rice. Goten was scarfing down rice in the same manner, kicking his feet back and forth beneath the table. He hadn't quite mastered talking while eating like Goku and Gohan had. "Dad says… *munch munch* …that you were with… *munch munch* …Piccolo the whole time… *munch munch munch*" was all he got out before he gave up trying to multitask. He finished off his bowl before returning to the conversation, his face covered with stray rice.

"Why do you like hanging out with him anyway? He's mean!" Goten added before digging into yet more food. It was no wonder Gyumao was almost broke. It took a king's fortune to feed that group every night. Gohan actually put down his bowl and chopsticks to answer that one. "He's not really all _that_ bad. Sure, he can be a bit harsh at first, but he's really a nice guy if you give him a chance." He really couldn't blame his little brother for thinking that way. He thought so too at first, after all. However, Goten hadn't yet realized that Piccolo was only trying to do what he thought was best, and at the time that meant a seemingly insane training regimen for both him and Trunks. There always seemed to be a time limit they had to beat. There was just not enough time to take it so easy on the two younger ones.

After dinner, the three Saiyans took a bath to wash off the sweat from the day's training. Goku and Goten would bathe together, but Gohan had grown too old for that and bathed separately. A part of him missed that, but he knew how awkward that would be now that he was practically an adult. After their baths, Gohan and Goten went up to their room and quickly fell asleep, keeping their curfew even on the weekend. As he drifted to sleep, Gohan couldn't help but contemplate sneaking off to his old master's house the next day…

Monday came far too quickly for the young Saiyan. Gohan hadn't found even the tiniest opportunity to sneak away that weekend, his mother having watched over him like a hawk the entire time. He wouldn't even dare bring up that he'd missed school while he was with Piccolo. There was no need to poke at the subject anymore. Besides, he decided his teacher may need a little more time to himself before he began coming over like that. He was such a secluded individual, after all. So, since he no longer had a more pressing assignment that warranted him time off from school, he decided today was as good a day as any to return. He got dressed in his usual school uniform; brown pants, a white sweater, and a black vest with his school crest pinned to it. It felt strange to leave for class without first donning his Great Saiyaman costume, but he supposed he'd have to get used to riding Kinto'un again. Even as he hopped on the magic flying cloud, his mother didn't question his sudden break in routine. After what she'd seen on the news, Chi chi thought it far too dangerous for her little boy to go around playing superhero anymore. She was just glad to see that he'd come to the same conclusion on his own.

Gohan sat with a glum look on his face the entire way to Satan City. Perhaps it hadn't hit him quite so hard as it did now, but he'd realized a while ago that today marked his return to a dull student life. From now on, he'd be forced to watch helplessly if he happened to see a crime take place. The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth. He felt like a coward all over again. If only there was some way he could- "Gohan! Stop ignoring me!"

The sudden shouting in his ear was almost enough to knock him clean off his flying cloud. Now hanging off the edge, he pulled himself up enough to see Videl flying alongside Kinto'un across from him. She already looked pissed. "S-sorry… I didn't notice you there." he mumbled as he righted himself on the cloud. He let out a small sigh. He hadn't counted on running into her so soon. He figured he'd have until he got to the city at least.

"Didn't notice? What the hell is _that_ supposed to mean? I've only been calling your name for _five minutes!_ Besides that, where have you been all this time? I was worried sick when you just disappeared like that! Don't tell me you got scared and ran away!" Ah, there it was. Gohan knew it wouldn't be long before that was brought up. Letting out another sigh, he turned his eyes downward again. "I guess there's really no better way to put it…"

There was a long silence. Videl wasn't exactly expecting him to admit to running away, she'd just said that to get him riled up. Of course, Gohan would never tell her the whole story. It was better for her to believe that he'd just run away than him getting the shit kicked out of him because he'd underestimated his opponent. He wouldn't mention Piccolo getting involved either. The last thing he needed was an argument between the two most stubborn people he knew. There was something he had to tell her, though…

"Hey, I… I don't think I'm going to do this anymore… Not for a while, anyway…" This time, Videl's shock would stop her mid-flight. Kinto'un followed suit, heeding it's master's thoughts. Gohan turned to look at her, his eyes filled with a sadness she'd never seen before. It truly did pain him to do this, but he was sure it had to be done. "I'm sorry. I know this is all very sudden, but… Unless I can somehow prove the Great Saiyaman's innocence in this whole affair, I can't possibly continue…" He left his sentence unfinished. He felt no need to elaborate. The point had been made. As Videl floated there silently, too astounded by what she'd just heard to formulate a response, Gohan left her there and continued on to school.

The Saiyan's walk through the courtyard of the school was absolutely agonizing. He could pick up bits and pieces of random conversations as he passed groups of gossiping students. All of them seemed to have the same subject: The Great Saiyaman. "I'm telling you, he's dead. Did you see how far he fell? Shit, man… I woulda loved to see the splatter he left on the pavement, though. How often do you get to see real life gore like that anymore?" "He's not dead, you moron! He's a superhero, ain't he? He probably eats falls like that for breakfast!" "It's so creepy to think he could be hiding here in Satan City… They say he's the real murderer, right? Ooh, now I'm scared to walk home by myself!" "The only evidence to support the theory that the Great Saiyaman is really the killer is highly circumstantial. True, he was the closest person to the victim at the time of the murder, but none of the guards actually witnessed anything. After a weapons malfunction, the hall was filled with tear gas, according to reports. No one saw him enter, the actual murder, or what happened afterward to cause him to fall from the window. Of course, there's plenty of reason to cast suspicion on him. I'm just saying there's no hard _evidence."_

Gohan could feel his entire body go cold. Even after a week, everyone was still talking about this? It seemed the whole school was divided between those who thought he was dead and those who thought he'd survived. Worse still was the divide between those who thought he was innocent, and those who thought he was guilty. And here he was, the lone ex-superhero, the only one there that knew the truth, forced to hear all of it yet give no reaction. He couldn't react, no matter what was said about him. He'd have to have the patience of a saint just to get through the day.

Suddenly, he felt a heavy hand slap down on his shoulder from behind. Gohan nearly jumped out of his skin. What now? Had he made a face or something? Did he say something without even realizing it? Or did someone just _know?_ Oh God, that was it, wasn't it? Someone knew and now they were going to expose him or blackmail him or worse! He couldn't think of anything worse at the moment… But he was fairly confident this person had a good imagination!

"Hey! Th' fuck is wrong with you, Scrawny Shit? 'Bout piss yerself 'cause your precious superhero up and died? God, you're such a fuckin' fan boy…" Wait…Gohan recognized that voice! Turning around, he found himself staring up at a rather muscular teen with his long blonde hair combed flat against his head and down his back. "Sh-Sh-Sharpner! O-oh, so it's y-you!" he stuttered out, letting out a shaky sigh of relief and pressing a clammy hand against his pounding heart. "God, you scared the shit outta me…"

"Tch… Yeah, I'm just _sure_ I did…" Sharpner retorted with a rather nasty look on his face, trying his best to be as belligerent as possible it seemed. It wasn't long before the jock got a swift elbow to the ribs. That was about as high as the young woman standing next to him could reach, after all. After having jabbed at Sharpner for his rather rude comments, the small blonde then trotted up to Gohan and given him a big hug. "Oh, you poor thing! I heard about your Grandmother… It must be so hard to lose such a close family member, huh?" Erasa asked, looking up at him with huge blue eyes. Gohan could only blink stupidly for a moment. "My… Grandmother?" he repeated. Erasa let go of her grip on him.

"Yeah, that's why you were gone for so long, right? You had to go to your Grandmother's funeral. Videl told us all about it… We're really sorry for your loss…" she explained, giving a small bow to show her respect. Sharpner just folded his arms across his chest and let out another 'hmph'. Erasa immediately jabbed him again. "Ow! Th' hell's that for? I ain't sorry for this dumb shit's granny dyin'! S'not like I knew her or anything!"

Gohan blinked again. So… That was the excuse Videl had used to excuse him for so long? He supposed it was the only thing believable, but… When the hell was she going to explain this cover story to him?

Soon enough, the first bell rang. It couldn't have come too soon for Gohan. It meant an end, albeit temporary, to the Saiyaman gossip. As he sat down for homeroom, he caught a glimpse of Videl as she made her way to her seat. She didn't even glance his way. Gohan let out a sigh, slouching in his seat. He'd really done it now… She was pissed at him. He was sure he'd be lucky if she ever spoke to him again after what he'd done. Of course… Wasn't it better this way? She'd be able to go back to the way she worked before, as if never having met the Great Saiyaman. Now he just wished the rest of the school would do the same…

The rest of the day seemed to drag on forever. The gossip going around school made him anxious, but silence unnerved him even more so. He'd felt as if everyone was staring at him, secretly thinking 'he's the one that did it.' He'd found himself staring out the window almost the entire day. If only he could just fly out of there… If only he could just escape… Of course, that would fit the current stereotype the Great Saiyaman now held, didn't it?

The second the last bell rang, Gohan ran out of there like a bat out of hell. He wouldn't be stopped by anyone today, not by Erasa, not by Sharpner, and certainly not by Videl. He ran until he was well off campus, until he was so far into the city that no one who knew him from school could catch up. Eventually, he made his way to a local park and finally collapsed on a bench, shoving his face in his hands. Today had been one of the most stressful days of his life! He was sure that even the smallest twitch on his part would alert people to his true identity. And it was only Monday… He had four more days of this hell before he even made it to the weekend! Even after that, he still had months before his graduation. How was he supposed to survive?

"O-okay… Just calm down, Gohan…" he thought aloud, trying to keep himself from having a full on panic attack there in the middle of the park. "No one knows… Piccolo-san's the only one that knows what happened… I'm just making myself paranoid…" Taking a deep breath, Gohan closed his eyes, clearing his mind of all thoughts. After doing that, he released his held breath. There, that was much better. He just had to remember what Piccolo had taught him about focusing his mind. It was thoughts like those that had caused him to lose against his mentor the other day. He had to keep his mind clear, especially now…

The young Saiyan sat there for some time after that, watching the elementary children run and play around the jungle gyms. It was a cool day. Comfortable weather. Very relaxing. Perfect for taking his mind off of everything. This relaxing moment was short-lived, however. Suddenly, his eye caught something out of place. Looking past the swing set, he saw a thin man with long gray hair wearing a lab coat standing with his back facing the Saiyan. Holding the man's hand was what looked to be a small child wearing a white cloak, the hood pulled over it's head. As if reacting to Gohan's sudden awareness of him, the man glanced back over his shoulder at the teen with one cold, acid green eye. One small adjustment on the man's part hid that eye behind a pair of steel-rimmed glasses.

If that alone wasn't enough to gain Gohan's curiosity, what happened next certainly did the trick. This time, the child looked back at him, its face shaded by its hood. Still, even from here, Gohan could tell something was off with this child. Its skin was… "Green?" he completed his thought aloud without meaning to. This seemed to earn a smile from the small child, and he soon turned away. Then, the two began casually walking away towards the city streets. Gohan immediately jumped to his feet and followed, too curious to leave well enough alone.

He followed the two at a walking pace. The last thing he wanted to do was raise suspicion at this point. Of course, there was no doubt in his mind that these two knew he was tagging along behind them. There was no way they couldn't. They'd practically invited him. As they walked deeper into the city, they began to take more and more odd twists and turns. It was becoming difficult for Gohan to keep up. Every time they turned a corner and escaped his view, they seemed to gain more and more ground ahead of him, despite their casual pace. It was almost as if they were teasing him. Soon, he found himself running to try to keep up. Still, every turn, they managed to gain more distance. Beginning to get aggravated, Gohan ran as fast as he could, taking the turns as sharply as possible without damaging something. Suddenly, turning a corner, he came to a dead-end alley.

Gohan dug his heels into the pavement, desperate to stop before hitting the wall. He tripped on the uneven concrete, however, and landed face first in a pile of garbage. He let out a disgusted groan as he pulled himself up out of the trash, peeling off banana peels and whatever else was now stuck to him. Of course, the man and the child were nowhere to be found. "Man, that's just my luck today!" he growled, slamming a fist into the scattered trash. His failure didn't last very long this time, however…

"My my, what an impatient little monkey we have here…" At the sound of a very young boy's voice, Gohan turned around. So… He was right about one thing. There stood the two he'd been following earlier, the slender man being none other than Dr. DeLourme from ArmsLab. The scientist gave the Saiyan a pompous look, adjusting his glasses up the bridge of his nose. The boy still remained cloaked in shadows. Gohan furrowed his brow. He had a bad feeling about this… "DeLourme… What the hell are you doing here?" he demanded. DeLourme's nose wrinkled up in disgust.

"That's '_Doctor_ DeLourme'. Don't ever let me hear a filthy mongrel like you address me in such a rude manner again." the scientist hissed, his frigid tone causing Gohan to step backward in surprise. He hadn't expected the gray-haired young scientist to speak so cruelly. Sure, he wasn't exactly a bucket of sunshine before, but still…

Suddenly, it occurred to Gohan… He'd never met DeLourme out of his Great Saiyaman costume! He instantly covered a hand over his mouth, but it was far too late. Weather the scientist had known before or not, he'd just been given confirmation from the man himself. And he didn't seem too fond of him at the moment either. Gohan's worries about his identity getting out came to an abrupt halt when the young boy began to laugh.

"Ahahahaha! My, you make for good entertainment, my boy!" Gohan's eyes shifted to the child. 'My boy'? What was that about? This kid couldn't be older than five, yet he spoke like an adult. The child's grin widened when he saw the confusion in the Saiyan's eyes. "Reunions like this always did amuse me. Oh, I'm far too tempted now! Shall I expand upon this ever growing plot?" the boy shouted excitedly, utterly confusing the hell out of Gohan. Suddenly, the boy grabbed a hold of his cloak's hood, pulling it back off his head.

Gohan's eyes widened a bit when he saw the boy's face. He'd guessed correctly, but he wasn't expecting to actually be correct. The boy was almost a mirror image of Dende when they'd first met on Namek. The young alien had an intricately embroidered cloth draped over the left side of his face, hiding his left eye. The Saiyan got a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. This kid wasn't Dende, that was certain. He wasn't any of the other Namekian children he was familiar with either. There was a sick amusement in the boy's eye, as if he was preparing to torture a defenseless animal. Suddenly, his grin disappeared, and his eyes now held a look of disappointment.

"You… You don't recognize me at all, do you? Tch… Honestly, am I _that_ forgettable? Well, I'm not giving you any more hints…" the Namekian child grumbled, replacing the cloak over his head. Then, just like that, his grin returned. "Oh well. That'll just make for a more interesting game. Can't spoil everything for you, now can we? No, not for you, my brand new playing piece…" At that, Gohan instinctively dropped into a defensive stance. Alright, now he _knew_ something was wrong. This boy's chi was hard to sense, but if he concentrated enough, he could feel the heavy weight of it's pitch blackness. This boy was definitely evil.

Seeing Gohan take a stance, the boy frowned. "Ah, yes… I'd forgotten how dreadfully stubborn you were… Perhaps I'll have to resort to giving you yet another hint after all…" Suddenly, the boy's chi seemed to pour endlessly from his body, engulfing the young Saiyan. Then, what felt like a giant invisible hand snapped shut around him, holding him in a vice-like grip. The Saiyan instinctively began to struggle, but his body refused to move. This boy was using telekinesis, and it was too strong for him to break.

"Ah, I see you've gotten stronger since we last met. Good boy! I'd expect nothing more from my new toy!" the boy laughed, squeezing his mental hold on the Saiyan even tighter. There was a loud crack, which caused Gohan to cry out a bit. This little bastard had just broken one of his ribs! Glaring down at the kid, he tried in vain to break free once again, this time his desire to kick that little shit in the face being his driving motive. A frown came upon the boy's face again, as he seemed to have already grown bored of this game. "That's enough playing, I suppose. If you could begin the experiment, Auguste? The game won't be much fun otherwise."

DeLourme gave a slight bow and reached into his pocket, retrieving a small syringe filled with a clear purple liquid. Gohan's body suddenly began moving without his permission, lowering him down to his knees. He was then forced to watch as the scientist approached him and drove the needle into the side of his neck. He could almost feel the mystery liquid making it's way through his veins the second it was injected, and it seemed to go straight to his brain. A few seconds later, his vision began to warp, everything around him flashing in a rainbow of color. It became nearly impossible for him to form a coherent thought, his mind to fuzzy to function properly. Next, his body went limp, the Namekian boy having removed his telekinetic hold on him. Still, Gohan couldn't seem to control his body, and he fell down to the pavement. He did manage to keep his eyes somewhat focused on the two in front of him for a while, until they vanished. As his vision began to fade, he opened his mouth to call out for help, but all that came out was a whisper. "Pi… Picc… olo… san…" he managed to wheeze out before he was taken by the darkness once again.


	3. Plunged Into Nightmares

The air was stifling. Hot. Awkward to breathe in. The clothes on his back felt much heavier than usual, though nothing his strong shoulders couldn't easily handle. He couldn't feel fresh air anywhere on his body, not even his face. Every inch was meticulously covered. His right hand seemed to be holding something. It was long and heavy for it's size and was being held against his shoulder. It was obvious to him by now that he wasn't lying on the ground anymore. He seemed to be standing on his own two feet. He seemed fine, yet… It all felt so wrong.

Gohan felt awkward in his own body. His legs felt longer than they should have been, his chest broader than before. A finger on each of his hands was numb, as if it wasn't there at all. His head felt strange. No, not his mind, his actual _head_ felt different. Even his face felt strange to him. His muscles, the way his skin felt, just… Everything! Everything about his body simply felt wrong! What the hell was going on?

Suddenly, his eyes opened. The Saiyan would have been grateful for this, had he actually ordered his eyes to open. No, it seemed someone else had done it for him. In fact, someone else seemed to be in control of everything he was doing, right down to the way he was breathing. He couldn't sense that Namekian boy's hand in this, however. He couldn't sense _anyone's_ hand pulling his stings. It was only himself and this odd, unfamiliar body he'd found himself in.

Once his eyes focused, he quickly discovered the source of the hot, stifling air he was breathing. There was a mask over his face. Black, and made of thick rubber. Completely airtight. A gasmask. Gohan was suddenly stricken with an extreme case of claustrophobia. He wanted out-no, he _needed_ to get out of this thing! He felt as though he would suffocate to death! He urged his arms to move, urged his fingers to rip the mask off, but they wouldn't budge. They remained in their current positions, completely unshaken by the boy's mental plight. It seemed his body was completely unaware of the panic his mind was in. It behaved as if he'd done this a thousand times. He wasn't even breathing heavily.

After a while, his panic died down. It's not like he could have done anything about it, after all. His body didn't seem to listen to him. As he forced himself to calm down, he became aware of his surroundings to a greater extent. He was in an elevator. But not just any elevator. This one… He remembered this elevator! The panels, the floor, the ceiling; all were pure white. To his sides and back were glass walls, a small cross-section of the building's floors passing him by beyond them as he rode up and up. All white as snow. No… This couldn't be…

Slowly, the elevator came to a stop. His eyes glancing up, he just barely caught what floor he was on. He'd arrived at the top. As the doors slid open, Gohan could barely contain his dread. He felt a wave of anticipation from the body he was in as well. There before him stood a hallway, an elite group of guards lining its walls. All the way at the end was a single door. In front of that door stood…

_No… Not him… Anyone but him!_

This thought was not his own, but he couldn't agree with it more. There, at the end of the hall, clad in black, green, and red, stood the Great Saiyaman. He was staring straight at _himself_. Suddenly, everything came together in Gohans mind. This was why his body felt so strange. This was why he had no control over his body. This was why he couldn't sense anyone manipulating his actions. He was somehow viewing the moment before Dr. Shiroi's murder through the _murderers eyes!_

He wasn't sure if it was his own feelings or not, but that walk through the corridor seemed to take ages. Each step took forever. He wasn't sure if he'd prefer it that way or not. Gohan desperately didn't want to see what would come next, yet prolonging it like this was almost torturous. Eventually, finally, he reached the halfway point in the hallway. He wanted nothing more than to shut his eyes, yet his body refused. His eyes would remain opened wide, alert, taking in every detail. What's worse, they were fixed on the costumed high school student standing in front of the door. Yes, he would be forced to watch his biggest failure in splendid detail through the eyes of the very man who orchestrated it.

Suddenly, the moment he'd been dreading. There were several small explosions around his waist. The corridor instantly filled with irritating gas, though this time he remained unaffected. The teen ahead of him was not so lucky. Amidst the chaos that had suddenly burst into this tiny space, his body began to run. He was practically blind, but his feet knew the way. It was a simple straight line, after all. At the last second, the Great Saiyaman came into view, coughing and hacking from the smoke, tears streaming from his eyes relentlessly. His hand shot forward and shoved the hero to the side effortlessly. Then, he slammed his shoulder into the door, breaking it open. There wasn't enough time to fiddle with the doorknob, especially had it been locked.

What came next was unexpected. Gohan stared straight ahead, straight into the acid green eyes of the young scientist sitting at the desk, a curt little smile on his face. Already seeping out from beneath the desk was a puddle of crimson red blood. The Saiyan's arm tossed aside his rifle, but immediately grabbed for his sidearm. The rifle was too large. No good in a small space like this. Not if he intended to get face to face with this man. Aiming for the young scientist's head, he made his way forward. DeLourme rose to meet him just as the muzzle of the pistol touched his pale brow. He smiled wickedly.

"Haven't you ever heard the old saying 'Don't shoot the messenger'?" DeLourme said with a small chuckle, as if not scared at all by the toy now held against his head. One glance down revealed the body of Dr. Shiroi, curled up in a heap under his desk, a bullet hole in his forehead. Gohan could feel an anger building up inside him, and this time he was sure it was his own emotion. He so desperately wanted to pull the trigger. Just erase this scum already! But no. He didn't. Not yet at least. DeLourme chuckled again.

"Oh, don't look so glum. It's not like you came here for nothing. This useless trash wouldn't have been able to tell you anything anyway. He was clueless to what was going on in his own company." he taunted, touching a single finger to the pistol and moving it aside, out of his face. "You've infiltrated this building quite well. I think you deserve at least _some_ compensation for that. So, here is the clue my master has left for you upon completion of this level: 'To kill Superman, you fill a bullet with Kryptonite. But, to kill a _Namekian_, you fill it with…'"

As DeLourme finished his sentence with a low cackle, Gohan's eyes widened. Did he say… _Namekian_? Suddenly, DeLourme's head flew backwards, his body falling straight back. The gun in his hand hadn't been fired yet, however. The scientist stopped abruptly, mid-fall, and hovered an inch or two above the ground. His acid green eyes stared laughingly up at Gohan, before shifting color. His irises were now as red as the blood pooling on the floor. "Life's a joke! Are you ready for the punch line?" Gohan's hand immediately aimed down at the man and fired. Before the bullet could hit him, however, he seemed to sink down into the floor as if it were made of liquid.

Now there was only the dead body of Dr. Shiroi to keep him company, and there he was holding a gun in his hand. Of course, he knew all too well what came next. In response to a round being fired, in came the clumsy hero, who Gohan now knew to have come even later than he'd realized before. Shiroi had been killed long before chaos erupted in the hall outside. Almost instinctively, his gun was turned on the teen, who was still coughing and wheezing. His hand seemed to freeze, however, as if realizing who it was.

Here it was. Right here. The moment that stuck so prominently in his mind. The hero charged at him, his face twisted in rage, his fist pulled back in a rather obvious fashion. Such a horrible face he was making… And he seemed to move so slow… Gohan's body would remain perfectly still. He wouldn't move. Not yet. Not until the time was right. Then, just a fraction of a second before the blow connected, everything seemed to freeze. It took no time at all. He circled around behind the boy and delivered a swift kick to the back of his head. The Great Saiyaman went crashing through the window, shards of glass flying everywhere. Then, he fell out of view…

"GOHAN!"

Gohan's eyes snapped open at the sound of someone desperately calling his name. He could move again. He could control everything again. And it all felt like his body. He took a deep breath, gasping for air as if he'd been under water for far too long. The Saiyan stared straight up from where he now lay, trying to fill his lungs with as much oxygen as possible. Once he began to catch his breath, he took notice of his surroundings. Again, it was all to familiar.

He once again found himself lying in his old friend's room. In his old friend's bed. It was almost an exact replay of the events that followed the incident he had just been dreaming about. Of course, it had all felt far too real to be a dream. There was one difference from before, though. Piccolo was already in the room this time. The Namekian was on his knees on the bed, straddling over the Saiyan's abdomen, his hands firmly gripping the boy's shoulders. No, it's not what it looks like. Don't get ahead of me. "P-Piccolo-san…?" Gohan questioned wearily. After finally hearing the boy respond, Piccolo let out a heavy sigh of relief.

"Christ, kid… I thought I'd lost you…" the Namekian replied, seemingly exhausted from the stress of trying to keep his student alive. He then quickly got up from on top of the boy and helped him to sit up. If Gohan wasn't concerned for himself before, than this behavior certainly did the trick. Piccolo would never show such concern for him unless something very bad had happened to him. Sure, he'd often felt concern for the boy, but never would he _show_ it. He could break every bone in his body and Piccolo would just tell him to be a man and suck it up.

As he sat up, Gohan cringed a bit, cradling his ribcage. That's right. He'd completely forgotten about his broken rib. That was that damn kid's fault. And then there was that stuff he was injected with… He placed a hand on his neck, feeling the small pinprick of dried blood there. What the hell kind of drug did DeLourme inject him with? His dream seemed too… Well, too _sane_ to be just some acid trip, as fucked up as it was. It had been as if he were given a direct link with that man's memories. And if his vision could be believed, it meant he could no longer call that man Dr. Shiroi's murderer. It had all been DeLourme, guided by the hand of his 'master'.

"That… That kid…" Gohan mumbled to himself. That had to be it! It was all that Namekian child! He was the one pulling the strings behind all of it! He turned to his mentor, who now sat on the side of the bed. "Piccolo-san! There was a Namekian kid there! He-" Gohan was interrupted before he could finish. Suddenly, Piccolo had stood up from where he was sitting, a look of horror on his face.

"What?" he growled, taking a hasty step towards the Saiyan, grabbing a hold of his shoulders. Wow, Gohan knew it was an important detail, but he wasn't expecting such a lively reaction from his mentor. "Gohan, are you sure it was a _Namekian _child? Did you get a good look at him? Did you see his face?" Piccolo asked urgently, searching the Saiyan's eyes for the answer. He looked frightened. Gohan didn't like that…

"Y-yeah. It was definitely a Namekian. I saw his face, but he kept half of it covered up. Why? Do you know him?" Gohan replied nervously, trying to inch away from the Namekian. Piccolo's hands were shaking slightly. He could feel them on his shoulders. Slowly, the hands were removed. "So… He's determined to have you involved…" It was little more than a mumble, but Gohan caught every word. So, he_ did_ know…

"Piccolo-san, just who is that kid? He acted like I should recognize him, but I don't ever remember meeting him." He'd been turning it over in his mind for a while now, but he just couldn't figure it out. He had the strange feeling the answer lied beneath the cloth over his left eye, but even then, trying to figure out what could be hiding there stumped the Saiyan even more. Piccolo stared at Gohan for a while, a contemplative look on his face. "The answer… Well, it seems impossible, even to me. Especially _now_…" There was a long pause, in which it seemed Piccolo was debating with himself weather or not to say the name… "It's Slug."

What? Gohan couldn't believe his ears. Had Piccolo really said 'Slug'? As in Lord Slug, the old exiled Namekian that had attempted to turn the Earth into a ball of ice? That had been more than ten years ago, and besides… "But… Hadn't you and Dad killed him? And he was even bigger than you back then! Even if he somehow survived, how could he have the body of a five year old now?" None of it made sense to Gohan. Of course, Piccolo _did_ warn him that it would sound impossible. The Namekian let out a small sigh.

"You're right, of course. Your father and I did indeed kill Slug. And yes, Slug was an adult at that time. Unfortunately… Stubborn old Namekians such as us have a way of ensuring our revenge even after our death…" Piccolo looked away, seemingly ashamed of what he was prepared to reveal. Gohan listened carefully.

"Before Slug died, he packed his soul into the form of an egg and spat it out, hiding it somewhere on this planet just before Goku impaled him. What Goku destroyed was his remaining shell, while Slug's 'son' hid safe and sound away from our eyes. That… was the same method my 'father' used to create me when Goku did the same to _him_…" Ah, Gohan got it that time. So that's why Piccolo was ashamed. Both he and Slug had almost identical deaths, and survived in the exact same way. He'd never heard the details like that before. He'd always wondered how Piccolo managed to survive back then. Then, a thought occurred to him.

"Wait! Slug's evil, right? So then… Why did he come back to life after Dende had wished only the good people back? Shouldn't he have remained dead?" At that, Piccolo shook his head. "That's what I can't figure out either. His soul is pitch black, yet he was spared by Porunga. But, from what you've told me, it sounds like he's changed bodies again, and within the last year. Perhaps he's figured out some loophole in the wish that I haven't seen yet…"

Gohan found himself staring down at the sheets, rubbing the side of his neck where he'd been injected with that strange drug. "He's been alive this whole time… Why now?" Piccolo let out another sigh, taking his seat on the bed again. He stared straight forward for a long while before replying. "It's… It's been going on for a lot longer than you realize… He's been plotting this game of revenge for years, meticulously building his plan to perfection, all the while entwining himself so deeply in all facets of civilized human society that simply taking him out of the picture would cause a world-wide collapse into chaos and anarchy. _That_ is the core of his plan. That's why I've tried hunting him alone, without having to baby-sit someone like your father to prevent them from fucking everything up. Slug has responded by focusing his revenge solely on me now…"

Gohan looked up at his mentor again. "On you? Why? Because you're the only one fighting him?" Piccolo nodded. "That's one theory, but I think it goes a bit deeper than that. The lengths he's gone to specifically to target me are far too extensive to just be because I'm trying to stop him. No, I think it's because I'm also a Namekian. I think perhaps it hurt his pride too much to have lost against another of his race, especially since he'd been exiled from Namek. But seeing me dead doesn't seem to be enough retribution for him. He won't kill me. He's even had plenty of opportunities. But… He'd rather see me suffer. His goal is to break me. He won't be happy until I'm plunged so deeply in despair that I take my own life. It's a dangerous game he and I are playing. I try to untangle his hold on the world, and he tries to utterly destroy me from the inside out. We've been playing this game for almost three years now. He's only just pulled you into this a week ago."

Gohan's eyes widened at that last bit. A week ago? He didn't mean… The Shiroi murder? "A-are you trying to say… It was part of Slug's plan for me to go to ArmsLab?" Piccolo looked at his student with a regretful look in his eyes, and nodded slowly. "Yes, Gohan… You were placed there to… To be the last obstacle between me and Dr. Shiroi…"

The room fell silent once again. So… Gohan's ever-growing suspicions had been correct. Piccolo had been the one that infiltrated ArmsLab that night. It had been Piccolo that kicked him through the window. And when he'd said he had been watching the whole time, he'd meant from the perspective of the intruder. So then, that memory had been…

Gohan shook his head. This was far too much to take in all at once! All that he'd thought about for the past week had suddenly been turned on it's head! The young Saiyan covered his ears with his hands. He didn't want to hear any more. He couldn't hear any more! His brain refused to take it anymore! Piccolo let out a sigh. It seems he'd ended up breaking his student after all. He felt terrible for having dragged Gohan into this mess, but it couldn't be changed now. He stood up, placing a hand on the boy's shoulder. Gohan looked up at him, lowering his hands a bit.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have talked for so long. You'd stopped breathing for nearly two minutes after I'd brought you back here. I should have known you'd be far too exhausted for all this…" Gohan nodded weakly in response. Yes, he _was_ exhausted. He hadn't realized he'd actually stopped breathing, though. It was probably that drug again… After seeing him nod, Piccolo turned to leave the room. "I'll explain to your father later that you'll be staying here again. In the mean time, get some rest. I'll figure out what you were drugged with by the time you wake up." And with that, the Namekian left the room.

It took Gohan no time at all to fall asleep that night. While the overwhelming events of the day would have kept him awake through the night under normal circumstances, he felt far too drained for all that tonight. He would not have a restful sleep, however. The entire night, he would be plagued with dreams. The same kind of dream as he'd had before. Always in someone else's body, viewing through their mind, unable to control anything. A few of them were meaningless to him. Just plain, everyday visions of other people's mundane lives. Unmemorable. Almost boring. But one rivaled his first one in strangeness…

Gohan found himself sitting in a chair, staring straight at the wall in front of him. Everything was white, but not quite like it was at ArmsLab. No, he was positive this was a different kind of 'lab' altogether. The walls, the ceiling, the floor… Everything was padded. Everything but the chair he was sitting in. The chair was made of welded together plates of steel. That alone was uncomfortable enough, but the tight leather restraints around his wrists, chest, waist, legs, ankles… That just pushed it over the edge for him. It all seemed rather unnecessary, either way. This body felt so very weak. It felt as if even the tiniest move the wrong way would shatter one of this person's frail bones like glass.

Almost immediately, Gohan's mind began to panic a little. An insane asylum. That was the first thing that popped into his mind. This was a memory from the mind of someone in an insane asylum! The Saiyan now wanted nothing more than to wake up at once! Seeing something out of the mind of someone that needed so many restraints in _this_ kind of place wasn't exactly near the top of his to do list today. For some reason, he felt this wasn't exactly a 'memory' per se. It felt more like he was watching something in real time.

But there was something about this person… Despite where he was, he wasn't panicked. He didn't seem as horrified as Gohan would have thought someone in that situation would be. No, this person was perfectly calm. Not exactly happy, but… content. Then, Gohan noticed something. He could hear whispering. It wasn't just one or two people either. It sounded like hundreds all at once. Far too many to discern from one another, but there were a few that he could pick out. There were a few that were louder than the others. They were the most emotional ones. Some were crying, some screaming in pain. Others would laugh uncontrollably, sounding as if they would choke to death if they kept it up for much longer. Those seemed to unsettle this person the most.

Gohan now felt as though he'd been the unluckiest person in the world. Of all the minds he could have been thrown into, it had to be the mind of a schizophrenic person.

Suddenly, he heard the sound of a heavy lock being disengaged behind him, and a thick steel door slowly being pushed open. As this was happening, that laughter from before overpowered all the other voices in his head. For a split second, he could have sworn he recognized that voice, but it abruptly disappeared. This person seemed to have tuned it out. Whoah, you could do that? Gohan had always thought schizophrenia patients couldn't control the disembodied voices they heard…

"Good evening, Gamma. How was your day?" Okay, _that_ voice was definitely real. And again, he knew this voice. This time, he had plenty of time to guess who it was. As if on queue, the pale, long haired scientist walked around from behind him, a small smile on his face. For once, DeLourme's expression seemed genuinely happy, with just a small spark of mild amusement in those acid green eyed of his. "Oh come now, I _know_ you're awake. You may be able to fool other's with those lifeless eyes of yours, but you know you can't fool me."

As if admitting defeat, 'Gamma' seemed to turn his eyes up slightly to look DeLourme in the face. This response was met with a big grin on the scientist's part. "There! Much better!" Gamma seemed to look the scientist up and down for a moment. Then, he spoke. "Delta… You're still wearing that, I see…" Gamma's voice came out in little more than a whisper. It seemed to be all he could muster. Surprisingly, he sounded a lot younger than Gohan had imagined him to be. He sounded as if he were barely twenty. He had a sweet, gentle voice. Rather comforting to Gohan, even in this nightmarish place. DeLourme, now called 'Delta' by the man strapped to the chair, tugged a bit at his lab coat. "A good actor remains in character for the entirety of the production, weather he's on stage or off." Gohan felt a pang of dread. Did that mean he wasn't even a real doctor?

"I didn't come today to discuss my wardrobe, Gamma. I have some good news that I wanted to share with you. Today was the birth of Epsilon. I thought you'd like to hear how our new 'brother' was faring." Gamma seemed to look down at his knees at that, offering Gohan his fist glance at the person behind that soft voice. His legs were very thin, almost dangerously so. He could nearly see this man's bones through the thin white scrubs he wore. Somehow, this fit Gohan's image of him almost perfectly. "I see… And the results?"

"He's quite strong, but has the mind of a rabid raccoon. He's already been approved for mass-production. The Epsilon Series will likely be nothing more than cannon-fodder. Or, as Lord Slug so eloquently put it, 'he'll make a fine meat shield.'" Gohan almost couldn't believe his ears. He had no idea who this Epsilon person was, but that was an absolutely horrible thing to have said about anyone! Apparently, Gamma thought so too, because Gohan could feel the man's grip tighten on the arms of his chair. "I'm sure we mean little more to him, Delta…" the man whispered through gritted teeth. DeLourme responded with a half-hearted shrug of his shoulders.

"Oh, but that's only half of the news I've brought you today. You see, earlier this afternoon, I had the honor of initiating the production of the Omega Prototype." Gohan's heart just about stopped there. Earlier this afternoon? Could he be referring to the 'experiment' Slug was talking about before DeLourme drugged him? As if feeling the same, Gamma let out a shuddering sigh. "Then… He plans to end the game soon…" DeLourme gave him a warm smile, a small chuckle escaping from his throat. Either he'd mistaken Gamma's reaction for one of awe-filled disbelief, or he was mocking him. "That's right. It won't be long now." DeLourme responded, walking past Gamma towards the out-of-view door behind him. "Knowing that, you should rest while you can. We have a lot of work ahead of us in the coming days." With that, the large steel door could be heard screeching shut, the lock clanging back into place.

The tiny room was once again plunged into lonely silence. Not even the voices could be heard. Gamma looked down into his lap, a lock of long, wavy, pale-blonde hair falling in front of his eyes. Then, Gohan could hear his voice very clearly, though Gamma's mouth wasn't moving at all. _"It's time to wake up now, Gohan… He needs your help…"_

Gohan's eyes snapped open to stare at the dark ceiling above. His body was drenched in a cold sweat, but he didn't feel quite as shitty as he did when he woke up earlier that day. Of course, this time he hadn't stopped breathing for two minutes. Slowly, he sat up, having learned his lesson from before about remembering that he'd broken something. It didn't hurt quite as bad this time. It seemed Piccolo had bandaged him up while he slept.

Resting his arms across his knees with a slight cringe, Gohan recalled his most recent dream. That schizophrenic guy, Gamma… Had he really been talking to _him_? Suddenly, it dawned on him. _'No, not schizophrenic… He was psychic!'_ That would explain why he could tune out the voices in his head. Then, a theory arose in the Saiyan's mind. Did Gamma perhaps send that vision to him on purpose? If so, was he also responsible for the earlier vision from Piccolo's mind? It would certainly take a psychic of extraordinary power to crack into_ that_ brain, but somehow Gohan believed this Gamma person had that gift. Then, there was the dream's conclusion…

"'He needs your help'… What did he mean by that? Who needs my help?" Gohan thought aloud, trying desperately to figure it out. Gamma had told him that for a reason, after all. For some reason, he felt he could trust this mysterious person. He didn't seem to have ill intentions. He'd just wish that guy would have been a little more clear on exactly who needed his help!

Almost as if answering his question, a loud crash emanated from somewhere out in the living room. Gohan jumped a little, not expecting such a loud noise so late at night. That, and those dreams had put him a bit on edge. Instinctively, Gohan began to climb out of bed to see what was wrong, moving slowly because of his broken rib. As he inched his way through the dark room, he could hear heavy footsteps move quickly through the hall beyond. They shuffled through in an odd pattern, like the person was stumbling. Once he got to the door, the footsteps had faded away.

Gohan placed a hand on the knob, hesitating to open it. So, which would come out, the Tiger or the Lady? Should he open it and find out? Quickly, at the sacrifice of another stab of pain in his abdomen, the young Saiyan burst into the hallway. Having faced the way the door opened, he found himself staring down the hall in the direction that the crash came from. It was dark, but the pale moonlight that shone through the open front door revealed the scene to him. The crash that he'd heard earlier had apparently come from a glass being knocked from the bar-style counter to the floor, the shards now strewn across the walkway. There was something under the shattered glass on the floor. It looked to be large drops of a dark liquid. Since it didn't seem to have been the contents of the glass, it reminded him of one thing; blood.

As he continued to look over the scene, he noticed that there was a trail of it. It lead all the way from the door and zigzagged sporadically past where he was standing. As he followed the trail to his feet, he finally caught it's color. Gohan's eyes widened.

"P-Piccolo!" he shouted, turning towards the direction he'd heard the footsteps fade off earlier. Purple. That blood was _purple_. A Namekian's blood! As his eyes followed the trail down the hallway, the drops gradually became larger and larger until they disappeared behind a door. It was that same door Piccolo had always left locked. Rushing down the hall, now terrified something bad had happened to his old friend, Gohan easily threw open the door. He didn't know weather he should be happy about that, or more terrified. Piccolo hadn't the time to even close it properly.

The second he opened that door, he was instantly bathed in a bright blue light. The Saiyan had to shield his eyes from the stinging light until his eyes finally adjusted. Blinking the discomfort away, Gohan desperately peered into the room for a glimpse of his injured friend. He regained his sight just in time to see Piccolo, on his hands and knees, drive a knife into his own gut.

_'…until I'm plunged so deeply in despair that I take my own life…'_ Gohan let out a gasp and sprinted into the room, dropping to his knees next to the Namekian and firmly gripping the hand that held the knife, attempting to pull it out. Piccolo resisted, and turned a glaring eye up at the boy. "Guhh! G-Gohan! Let go, dammit!" he stuttered out, his throat already clogged with blood from his self-inflicted stomach wound. Gohan tightened his grip on the Namekian's hand, refusing to let go. "No! I'm not gonna just sit here and let you do this to yourself!" the Saiyan retorted before Piccolo tried to shake the boy off. This resulted in him accidentally pulling the knife sideways, the blade ripping through his abdomen. Gohan couldn't help but cringe as a torrent of blood spilled onto the floor.

"F-fuck! Get the Hell offa me!" the Namekian cursed before removing his hand from the hilt of his knife just long enough to toss Gohan to the side. The Saiyan stumbled backwards before crashing into the wall behind him. He looked up just in time to see Piccolo twist the knife, his face contorted in agony. Before Gohan could get up to stop him again, Piccolo had already removed the blade from his body. Another pint spilled out of his gut, but this time, something came with it. Gohan wasn't concerned with what it was at the moment, though.

"U-ummm… Piccolo-san…" Gohan began nervously, inching his way back over towards his mentor as he clamped a hand over the sizable hole in his abdomen. A hole that probably wouldn't have been so big if not for a certain someone's interference. Gohan's cheeks turned a bit pink in embarrassment. He'd hastily jumped to the conclusion that Piccolo had been attempting to commit suicide, when it seemed he was just trying to remove something from his wound. What was that, anyway? Glancing down into the large pool of indigo liquid that had gathered on the floor, Gohan caught a glimpse of what it had been. Or the remains, at least.

The first thing his eyes went to was the broken end of a glass syringe, the steel needle still in place, though twisted at grotesque angles. Scattered throughout the pool were more shards of glass. Gohan shuddered at the thought of having something like that shoved into a person's body, however it had been done.

Suddenly, Piccolo reached up and grabbed the edge of one of the stainless steel tables that lined the room, pulling up to his feet in what had to be excruciating pain. There was no way he could have removed all the glass. Using the table to brace himself, he staggered along it's edge on legs that seemed barely able to support his weight. He nearly collapsed after just a few steps, but this time, Gohan was there to catch him.

"Piccolo-san… I…" Gohan began, but couldn't find the words he needed to express how sorry he was. He blamed himself for the condition his friend was in now, having made his wound a good three times larger than it should have been. Piccolo looked up at Gohan with an expressionless face, his eyes going in and out of focus. He opened his mouth to speak, but his body went limp before he could say a word, his hand falling down to his side. Gohan began to freak out.

"Piccolo-san!" he shouted, trying to wake his mentor. It was no use. _Oh God!_ he thought, _I've killed him!_ Of course, upon further inspection, he realized that he'd only blacked out. Gohan then immediately looked down at the Namekian's wound. His abdomen was still covered in blood, but the wound seemed to have completely disappeared. Gohan let out a sigh of relief. Good… So he'd managed to regenerate before passing out. He must have used the last scrap of his energy to do so.

Hooking the Namekian's arm over his neck, Gohan carried him back to the bedroom. After all that, it would have been rude of him to keep the man's own bed from him. Laying him as gently as he could on the bed, the Saiyan removed Piccolo's blood-soaked clothes. He felt awkward doing so, his cheeks flushing red again as he removed his mentor's pants. He then quickly covered him up with the blankets, mostly for his own sake. Once he was done being an immature little five-year-old, he took a seat at the end of the bed.

Gohan couldn't even begin to contemplate what could have happened while he was asleep. Had Piccolo been attacked? Or had he gone out looking for trouble? Somehow, he was almost certain it was the latter. If so, then why? After meticulously working to undo the damage Slug had already cause, why recklessly screw it all up now? It couldn't have been… "Did… Did he do it because of me?" Gohan thought aloud, glancing back at his sleeping mentor. At the end of their conversation, Piccolo had promised he'd discover what DeLourme injected him with. That had to be why. He let out a sigh. There really couldn't be any other reason. He'd gone out to take revenge for what they'd done to his dear Student. That theory made the Saiyan feel even worse about the whole thing. "Some help I am, Gamma…"


	4. One, Two, Fready's Comin' For You

Gohan was reluctant to go back to sleep again. With the darkness came those dreams of his, and he wasn't looking forward to another one like Gamma's. He didn't want any more cryptic messages to plague him. He didn't want to see completely opposite perspectives of events he was sure he'd figured out already. He just really wanted to rest. These dreams- no, these thoughts and memories that have been forced into his head… The world could explode tomorrow as a consequence as long as they got the hell out of his head!

Gohan was sitting on the side of Piccolo's bed, desperately trying to keep his eyes open. How long could he last without sleep? If he recalled that one horror series correctly, at forty hours he would start to take micro-naps. At seventy, he'd fall into a coma. He then found himself weighing the two against each other; the visions or a hundred hour coma. In the end, was avoiding those dreams really worth it? It's not like Freddy Krueger was really going to show up in his dreams and say a few witty one-liners before driving those dagger-claws into him… The young Saiyan chanced a paranoid glance over his shoulder. The only thing moving in the dark room was Piccolo's chest as it rose and fell with his shallow breaths.

Convincing himself he wasn't in a horror movie, Gohan decided to give sleeping one more shot. Laying down next to the sleeping Namekian, but leaving him plenty of extra room, he could feel his eyes closing before his head ever touched the pillow. Sleep trailed only seconds behind. Sure enough, another dream followed before he could get any true rest…

When Gohan's eyes opened next, he found himself thrust into another person's body yet again. This one was still very strange to him, but he got over the awkward feeling relatively quickly. Perhaps he was getting used to this. Not that he really _wanted_ to, but he supposed it afforded him a longer look at his surroundings before the actual 'memory' kicked in. And from the feel of it, this one was definitely a memory. An old one. Once his eyes could focus, he found himself staring straight up at a very bright light. Squinting his eyes, he tried desperately to block the light out without actually closing his eyes again. Gohan wanted to see what was going on, and apparently so did this person. The reason why became apparent when his vision finally cleared.

It turned out the light hanging above him was actually a cluster of several lights, all arranged in a honeycomb pattern. A surgical light. Ah, fuck… This _was _another 'Gamma' dream, wasn't it? Before Gohan could run all the possible surgeries one would perform on someone in an insane asylum through his head, an overwhelming sensation came over his body that immediately demanded his full attention. Skinny-dipping in the Arctic Ocean wasn't an extreme enough analogy to describe how absolutely freezing cold he was! He now noticed that his body had been shivering in a desperate attempt to stay warm, and that his breath could be seen as puffs of smoke coming from his mouth. Were these really proper conditions to keep in an operating room? Was this humane? For some reason, Gohan got the feeling that _that_ was the idea…

He could feel a breeze over his entire body. Of course… Bare naked… The _one_ hospital procedure this place would adhere to. As if answering his prayers, his arms tried to wrap themselves around his body to keep warm. They barely made it an inch off the table before stopping dead, pulling against what felt like the same restraints from his Gamma vision. Luckily, this person seemed strong enough not to snap his forearms in two with the sudden motion. This didn't seem to be Gamma, but he had the same leather restraints. Wrists, arms, chest, legs, ankles. But this time, they seemed well deserved. This person was strong.

For the next minute or so, Gohan's mind was flooded with questions, which seemed to be alternating between two different subjects. Was this a vision from someone at that asylum? What the hell did they have him strapped to, a block of fucking ice? This couldn't be the 'Epsilon' they were talking about, could it? They did mention he was strong… Couldn't they have just used a normal operating table? At least steel would have warmed up by now! God, they weren't going to do anything bad to him, were they? They certainly didn't seem to care for Epsilon enough to be concerned for him. Polished fucking marble! _That's_ what it was! Just like the Lookout tiles! What doctor in their right mind would-?

His thoughts came to a halt when he once again heard the sound of a heavy steel door being pushed open to his left, an even colder breeze coming in with the person. He could feel his hands clench into fists as his head turned to see who'd come in. Gohan could have died of embarrassment if this had been his own body. Standing off to the side of the door was a rather attractive blond nurse. She wasn't the one who'd walked through the door, so that meant she'd been there watching him the whole time. This person's eyes didn't seem to notice her at all, however. They were far too interested in the one who'd walked in.

The doctor was average height for an adult. He had a prominent brow and a sharp, pointy nose. His hair seemed to have been meticulously combed until every strand was in the right place. All in all, he would have looked like a very respectable doctor, if not for the open bottle of wine clutched in his hand. His eyes narrowed.

"Drinking on the job? That's very unlike you…" Gohan's mind spun from just this one utterance from the person whose memory he was viewing. _What_ was said didn't concern him. It was _how_. Yes, as one may have guessed, it was said very sarcastically, but it was spoken in a language Gohan was sure he'd never heard. Though, since this person obviously knew the language, it had been automatically interpreted for his brain's comprehension. It was still strange just magically understanding such an odd language…

That wasn't all. This voice… He _knew_ this voice! Even through the thick foreign accent and the strange language, he could never mistake this deep, calm voice. It belonged to none other than Piccolo, his beloved friend. It was another of _his_ memories. That explained why he got used to the body so quickly. But how recent was this? Focusing his attention back on the other male in the room, he caught a rather nasty glare from the man. "Watch your tongue! As rare a specimen as you are, I won't lose any sleep from terminating you right here and now!" he growled in response, quick to remind this strange creature lying on his chopping block that he was the one in control. He then shot a quick glance at his bottle before it seemed he had to make isome/i excuse for it. This man seemed to value his appearances very highly. "And here I was kind enough to want to share my New Year's drink with a filthy creature such as yourself…"

"The blizzard outside will not fool me as it would the others. I know for a fact that 1945 is still over a month away. But, I wonder… Will this place even still be here by then? Or have the Allies scared you into thinking your last drink will have to come far before New Year's Eve?" Piccolo taunted with a chuckle. Gohan was rather surprised at this. He got the strange feeling this was not normally how the two would converse. Wow, Piccolo sure had some guts talking like that in a situation like… Wait, did he say _1945_? As in the last year of World War II? But that was over eight-hundred years ago according to his history teacher! Just how old _was _Piccolo? Suddenly, they days his class spent going over this ancient war stood clearly in his mind, several realizations coming to him at once.

Firstly, he realized that these two had been conversing in German, a language considered dead in his time. He was now almost positive where he was, provided he was correct in his next assumption…

This person… There was only one man he could be. He could think of only one person that had dissected countless innocent people on a polished marble surgical table. This had to be the infamous Nazi doctor of the Auschwitz-Birkenau Concentration Camp. Gohan almost couldn't believe he was staring up into the cold, merciless eyes of Josef Mengele himself. And, unfortunately, the rumors of the Nazi Captain's short temper would prove to be true…

In reaction to Piccolo's taunting remarks, Mengele hastily grabbed a scalpel from the tray next to his dissecting table, holding it upside-down tightly in his fist. He then drove the razor-sharp blade into the Namekian's upper abdomen, earning him an agonized shout of pain. This outburst on Piccolo's part seemed mostly out of surprise. This was quite a typical reaction from the doctor, after all. The Namekian then gritted his teeth, bracing himself for what he knew would come next. Mengele jerked the scalpel down, ripping through the alien's flesh until, having pulled at an odd angle, the blade came to a stop against the left side of his pelvic bone. Glaring down at the Namekian, the doctor slipped a gloved hand into the newly carved incision and firmly gripped the one side closest to him. Then, with the delicate touch of a five year old opening a Christmas present, Mengele tore the wound open wide, earning a rather nasty scream from his victim.

"I _said_ I wanted to share a _drink_ with you…" the Nazi hissed through gritted teeth before emptying the contents of his wine bottle into his patient's gaping wound. Gohan could feel everything as Piccolo had felt it. The alcohol burned his exposed flesh like nothing he'd ever felt before, and it almost felt like it would sear straight through his unprotected organs. He could feel the Namekian becoming lightheaded, but unfortunately for the both of them, he was no where near passing out. Piccolo seemed to have remained conscious through much worse…

His eyes wandered back up towards Mengele just in time to watch the doctor throw his empty wine bottle blindly behind him. The sound of shattering glass was followed immediately a terrified scream from the nurse. It had missed hitting her head by mere inches. The doctor kept his eyes fixed on the Namekian, not bothering to disguise the scowl on his face. "Such a greedy body you have. You've drank all my wine before I could even make a toast. That was a rather expensive brand, too. I wonder if you have the strength to make it up to me before-"

Gohan's eyes opened, bringing the dream to an abrupt end. He laid there for a moment, wondering if he'd really woken up. That didn't seem to have been the end. It was like it had cut out in the middle. Or rather, it was more like he'd been forced out before he saw- or felt- something he wasn't supposed to.

Suddenly, two arms wrapped themselves tightly around the Saiyans shoulders, causing him to jump a bit from surprise. He then felt Piccolo bury his face against the back of his neck. Gohan blushed a little, not realizing what the Namekian was doing at first. Then, he could hear him mumbling in his sleep, still in German. "N-nein…Nicht du… Gohan…" Gohan's face turned a deeper red at the mentioning of his name, though he had no idea what the rest meant.

Wait, if he was still speaking German… Did that mean he was having the same dream Gohan had? If so, it seemed he'd gotten a lot farther in it than the Saiyan had before he was kicked out. Perhaps Piccolo had sensed Gohan prying into his dream. The teen's brow furrowed. Just who was snooping around who's mind exactly?

The next morning, Gohan found himself lying alone in the bed. When he first awoke, this thought made him a bit sad. Having Piccolo's arms wrapped around him like that was comforting, and even helped to keep the dreams away. Suddenly, the Saiyan sat bolt upright, his face bright red. What the hell was he thinking? Wanting to be held in another man's arms… And his Martial Arts master of all people! Besides, as far as the law was concerned, Gohan was still only seventeen. If he counted that, then that last little thought of his broke at least three taboos that he was aware of.

Suddenly, as if fate was conspiring to fan the flames of his random, unintentional fantasy, the door just across from the Saiyan swung open. Gohan glanced up, but immediately averted his eyes downward again, his cheeks beet red. Piccolo had emerged from the bathroom wearing nothing but a towel around his waist. Apparently he'd just taken a shower. Understandable. His stomach had probably still been covered in dried blood from the night before.

Without saying a word, the Namekian strode past the bed towards the dressers across the room. Gohan could hear the shuffling of fabric as Piccolo got dressed. After a moment, he chanced a peek back at his mentor. Just as the Namekian pulled up his jeans, Gohan took the opportunity to scan his midsection. He was looking for a scar of some sort. No, not from what had happened last night. He was looking for the scar Mengele would have left. _That_ stuck more prominently in his mind right now. Of course, he would find no scar, despite the horrific wound. As Piccolo pulled a white sweater over his torso, Gohan recalled that the Namekian regeneration ability made scarring virtually impossible.

After getting dressed, Piccolo made his way out of the room, acting as if he hadn't even noticed Gohan sitting there on the side of the bed. The Saiyan sulked there for a moment. Of course Piccolo knew he was there. He was ignoring him. Was he still mad about last night? Or could he just not find the words to discuss it at the moment? Gohan prayed desperately for the latter…

After his mentor left, Gohan stood up from the bed. He was planning on following after Piccolo, but a stabbing pain in his side stopped him momentarily. That damn rib of his again… Even bandaged, it didn't feel any better. Which reminded him… Piccolo must have had to change his clothes again while he slept, this time because his school uniform reeked of the garbage he'd fallen in. It looked like he'd be wearing his master's old jeans for a while longer.

Gohan eventually made his way out to the hall, looking for Piccolo to try to apologize for the night before. Stepping out into the corridor, he instinctively looked down at the floor. The glass and blood had been cleaned up, but the wood floor seemed to have been permanently stained with purple blotches. It was the same all the way down the hall until coming to a stop at the base of that constantly locked door. Today the door was shut tight. Gohan let out a nervous, shuddering sigh. Piccolo was in there. He could feel it.

Gohan stood in front of that door for a while just staring at the knob as if it was supposed to tell him what he should do. If Piccolo was as angry as he thought he was, was it really wise to intrude? It would be the equivalent of signing his death warrant in permanent marker… But he had to. He couldn't keep quiet about the visions he was having anymore, especially after what he'd seen last night. At the very least, he owed it to Piccolo to let him know what he'd seen.

Finally making up his mind, Gohan reached for the doorknob. Before he could lay a finger on it, however, the door slowly drifted open about an inch. The Saiyan hesitated, waiting to see if someone would come out. No one did. Gohan carefully pulled the door open, peeking around it's edge into the room. He caught a glimpse of Piccolo as he sat down in a metal folding chair, his back turned to the door as he went back to what he was working on. A silent invitation. Gohan supposed that was better than no invitation.

As the Saiyan made his way into the room, he got the chance to really examine it for the first time. It was set up like a small laboratory. Stainless steel tables lined the walls, several capped test tubes filled with various liquids ranging in color anywhere between a deep cobalt blue to an almost glowing bright magenta scattered here and there. Nearby were a few microscopes of various magnification. Papers were stacked everywhere in shallow piles, a thin, neat cursive filling even the margins with notes. On the walls, several copies of building schematics had been hung, one of the newest being the one for the ArmsLab Headquarters. In the corner nearest the door hung what looked like the kind of thing he'd imagine the black ops would wear; a black, form-fitting long sleeved shirt made of an odd, almost neoprene looking material, and thick, dark green pants made of that Army-issue khaki, complete with combat boots. Aside from all the little bits of equipment that went with it, there was a black gasmask. Gohan shuddered at the sight of it, remembering his claustrophobic panic from his first vision.

"Did you only come here to gawk? Or was there something you wanted to talk about?" Gohan gave a startled jump when Piccolo suddenly began speaking to him like that. He'd just thought he'd continue to ignore him. Looking over, he noticed that the Namekian had turned away from his work to stare at the boy, waiting for an explanation for his intrusion. The Saiyan ducked his head sheepishly, shuffling forward into the room. "W-well… Actually, there is…"

Piccolo folded his arms across his chest, a signal that Gohan should get to the point quickly. Gohan sighed. "I've been having some… _disturbing_ dreams lately…" he began. Piccolo's eyes narrowed. Suddenly, with an almost Jedi-like wave of his hand, a second chair appeared next to him. The Namekian seemed interested already. Perhaps he already knew, maybe just a little bit… Gohan gladly accepted the offer to take a seat.

"Ummm… Anyway, I've been having dreams that I'm in someone else's body, watching a moment in their lives through their eyes. Most of them were innocent enough. Everyday stuff. But… There were a few that were different. Three of 'em…" Gohan paused, having second thoughts about telling even this most trusted friend of these dreams. Piccolo sat silently in front of him, waiting patiently for the boy to continue. Well, there was no backing out now…

"The first one… W-well, I think I was… It was from that time I was supposed to guard Dr. Shiroi…" he began, hesitantly at first. He wouldn't just blatantly say it was one of Piccolo's memories. He was still unsure of that. "I dreamt I was the intruder. It started when he emerged from the elevator, and everything happened just as it had before, but…"

Gohan's hands clenched into fists against his knees. It still burned him up inside just to think about. "DeLourme had killed Dr. Shiroi in this dream… He taunted the intruder, even with a gun in his face. He said something about knowing how to kill a Namekian…" Piccolo's eyes narrowed slightly at this. It obviously sounded familiar to him. "When exactly did you have this dream?" he asked. Gohan thought about it for a moment. His mind had been so hazy then…

"It was just after Slug had that bastard drug me." the Saiyan replied, rubbing a hand on the side of his neck. A habit now, whenever he spoke of that time. Piccolo nodded his head slightly. He seemed to have figured as much. "And the second?"

"The second one was a little weirder…It happened just before you… Ummm… Well, just before you came home last night…" Gohan continued, looking away a bit. He was hoping he wouldn't have had to mention that little scuffle between the two of them. "DeLourme was in this one, too. He was talking to me. Well… He was talking to the person I was in the dream. 'Gamma' was his name. He was strapped to a chair and locked in a padded room… He called DeLourme 'Delta', and he talked about two others. I think it was 'Epsilon' and 'Omega'…"

"All letters in the Greek alphabet…" Piccolo thought aloud, obviously familiar with the names. Gohan nodded. "DeLourme also talked about mass-producing Epsilon, and how Slug was planning on using them as human shields." Ah, yet another touchy subject for the Saiyan. The nerve of Slug, treating another living being like a disposable tool…

Piccolo straightened up a bit in his chair, now genuinely interested in this dream. "Then, it sounds like he's using the Greek letters to categorize these people, though I somehow doubt they're exactly _human_. Others using that kind of system usually put the Epsilons at the bottom…" he replied with a nod of his head.

"There's one more thing…" Gohan added, sort of interrupting Piccolo's thought. He felt this last bit of information warranted it, though. "At the end of my dream, after DeLourme left, Gamma said something. It was strange… It felt like he was speaking directly into my mind. He even said my name!" the Saiyan shouted, looking to his mentor with pleading eyes. Eyes that begged the Namekian to tell him how this Gamma person knew him, and how he could speak to him through his dreams. Piccolo stared at Gohan for a moment before asking the obvious question. "What did he say to you?"

"Well, he told me to wake up and that someone needed my help. That was right before…" Gohan trailed off there. Again, he really didn't want to discuss last night, though he wanted desperately to find a way to apologize for it. Piccolo really didn't seem to care. "So, a warning from one of Slug's own men came to you in a dream, asking you to help ime/i…" The interpretation was easy enough after the fact. Gohan had even gathered that much by now, despite being so frustrated before with the seemingly cryptic message.

Then came the question Gohan was dreading, but knew he couldn't avoid. No, there was no way Piccolo wouldn't ask. The other two dreams had each given him clues, so why wouldn't he ask? "And… The third?" There was some hesitation in the Namekian's voice, as if he were dreading the question as much as the Saiyan in front of him had. He had a good idea what it might me. Gohan looked away.

"The third… I was… Well, there was… This doctor…" Gohan mumbled out in broken sentences, his arms unconsciously wrapping themselves around his abdomen. He could almost still feel the sting from the alcohol in that ghastly wound, that demonic doctor's gloved hand ripping apart his flesh… What's worse was he knew Piccolo had felt the same thing, and worse. "I-I think I was in…"

"It's alright, Gohan." the Namekian interrupted suddenly. Gohan looked up again, confused, but somewhat glad he was cut off. Retelling that story, especially since it was Piccolo… He just couldn't do it. Apparently Piccolo could see that. "I'm pretty sure I know that one quite well…"

On that note, the Namekian turned back towards the table in front of him, tapping a key on the laptop lying open in front of him. Once the screen came to life, he began digging through files, looking for something, but speaking as he did. "I don't suppose you noticed who the doctor was? I know his name is still brought up now and then, even after all this time…"

Gohan gave a small nod. "That was Josef Mengele… Right?" he asked hesitantly. Piccolo replied with a nod as well. "That's right. I'm somewhat impressed you got that. I don't remember ever saying his name then." "Well, the marble operating table kind of gave it away…" "Yes, I suppose it would have. It's a shame the Nazi's took it when they abandoned Auschwitz. I'd have liked to grind that damn marble slab to dust personally…"

By that time, it seemed Piccolo had found what he was looking for. He opened a folder containing scans of very old black and white photos. All of them were of corpses. Mug shots of the dead. It looked like a coroner's file. As if that wasn't disturbing enough, all of them looked strange, and in the same way. Most of them were women, their hair fallen out, their faces looking oddly pale except for the dark circles around their eyes. They were thin. Emaciated. Nothing but skin and bones. Most of them were bleeding from the ears and nose. Gohan had to clamp a hand over his mouth to keep from vomiting.

"I'll get straight to the point simply because I don't like to look at these either. These pictures were taken by agents sent by the Allied Forces to gather information on what was going on in the Nazi's concentration camps. These in particular came from the women's camp in Birkenau. Mengele was head physician there towards the end of the war." Piccolo explained, folding his arms across his chest as he leaned back in his chair a bit.

"Mengele conducted most of his experiments on the prisoners there. Few of them began with true medical knowledge in mind, and none of them ended with any gained. One of the procedures he liked to perform was a complete blood transfusion between two people, usually of different genders, to see what would happen. Normally, it resulted in nothing life threatening. Just a bit of discomfort and a headache. But these women, I believe there were eight in total… They had their blood switched with mine. They all died within an hour or two."

Gohan's eyes widened. Piccolo's blood had killed these women? Sure, he was an alien, but…"W-why did it kill them? And why so fast?" he asked, though he was fairly certain he didn't want to know the answer. Piccolo shook his head a bit. "I'm not entirely sure… It could be one of a few chemicals in my blood that, as of yet, have no names. Most of these women died of brain hemorrhages, and since Mengele wasn't very interested in the brain, the exact cause of their deaths remained largely unexplored…"

Gohan couldn't believe what he was hearing. Such horrors, and performed so uncaringly… Could a human being really be responsible for this? Suddenly, a question popped in the Saiyan's mind. One he really should have asked earlier. Perhaps it would have spared him this gruesome tale of human experimentation. "Piccolo… If these were taken by agents more than eight hundred years ago… Then how could you have gotten them?"

There was a long silence in which neither of them moved. Piccolo stared straight ahead at his computer screen, deep in thought. Finally, he closed the window the pictures were in before speaking up. "They were sent to me just two weeks ago… By Slug…"

Gohan let out a small gasp. "Slug sent you these? B-but why? And how the hell did _he_ get these?" he asked, raising his voice a little louder than he'd intended. Piccolo let out a sigh. "How he got his hands on them still baffles even me, but… He loves doing this… Before he makes a move, he'll leave me a hint. Some clue as to what he's planning. The problem is there are usually too many things it could mean. But now that I see the results… I'm kicking myself in the ass for not figuring it out sooner!"

Suddenly, the Namekian turned to look at Gohan again, looking as though he'd just seen a ghost. The Saiyan grew instantly nervous. "R-results? What do you mean? Is it about what happened last night?" he asked, scooting as far backward in his chair as he could. He didn't like that look in his eyes…

"Gohan… I didn't show you those pictures for no reason… Slug's doing the same thing Mengele had done to these women. Only now he's refined it somehow. I think he's found a way to infuse a Namekian's natural abilities into another organism using the chemicals in our blood. It's definitely something he'd try to do…" he explained, an almost horrified look coming over his face as he delved deeper and deeper into this new realization. "'Delta', 'Gamma', 'Epsilon', 'Omega'… They're not names, they're iproject titles/i. All different versions of one massive experiment…"

Gohan had stood up by now, keeping his eye on the door. He didn't like the way his old teacher was talking. It all sounded too horrible to comprehend. But, at the same time, it all made sense. He felt like, in a way, this was what Gamma was trying to tell him. He almost knew what was coming next, but he didn't want to hear it. Piccolo stood up as well, probably to prevent the boy from running. "You've had two visions pulled directly from my mind when in direct contact with me, at times when my guard was down. The other was sent to you by someone who knew you had the capability to receive it. Telepathy, especially of that level, isn't something one gains overnight. I'm sure you know that…"

Gohan stared at the ground. Of course he knew that… He just didn't want it to be true! He didn't want to see into other people's minds! He didn't want these horrible, exhausting dreams anymore! But, alas, even he could not deny it anymore. "P-Piccolo-san… I-I'm the Omega Project they were talking about… Aren't I?"

Piccolo let out a sigh, folding his arms across his chest again. "I'm afraid that's what it looks like… He's been planning your involvement in this a lot longer, and a lot deeper, than I had first imagined…"

With that information solidly laid into his mind, Gohan collapsed back into his chair, his arms falling limp beside him. He was still perfectly conscious, of course. He'd just fallen in shock. He was being used as a fucking science experiment! They'd altered his God damned brain for crying out loud! What was he supposed to do now?

In an attempt to ease Gohan's troubled thoughts, Piccolo laid a hand on the Saiyan's shoulders. The teen looked up at his teacher, too stunned, too overwhelmed, and far too angry to cry. The Namekian's obsidian eyes stared for a long time into those of his student, wanting nothing more than to take all his pain away. "Gohan…This is all my fault… If he hadn't seen how much I care for you, perhaps he wouldn't have targeted you. I promise, even if it kills me… I'll find a way to fix the damage he's done to you."

After that declaration, Piccolo attempted to leave for the door. Before he could remove his hand from the Saiyan's shoulder, however, he felt a hand wrap firmly around his wrist. Looking back, he caught sight of the determined look on Gohan's face as he pulled the Namekian back towards him. "And _I_ promise, even if it kills me, you're not going to die trying to save my sorry ass. If you go back to fight him again, it'll have to be with me at your side."

Piccolo stared at Gohan for a long moment, unable to think of something to say. Then, he looked away, his eyes scanning the room. Suddenly, he twisted his wrist, breaking free from Gohan's grip, and casually walked towards the door. The Saiyan immediately stood up. There was no way he could take 'No' for an answer on this! He opened his mouth to argue his mentor's decision, but was cut off when a set of clothes was tossed at him. He reacted instinctively to catch them before looking down to see exactly what he'd caught. It was that outfit that was hanging on the wall.

"Well? Hurry up and put it on. You don't expect me to take you anywhere looking like that, do you?" Piccolo asked as he leaned his back against the door, folding his arms across his chest again. Gohan stared for a moment, confused. "So… Just like that? You're not gonna argue or anything?" the Saiyan asked hesitantly. That wasn't like him, just letting his student get involved just like that. He was normally the most stubborn man on earth, especially when it came to protecting Gohan. Piccolo let out a sigh.

"The way I see it, I no longer have the right to deny your involvement in this. Slug has begun targeting you personally. He's already started trying to alter you. You have a legitimate reason to want revenge on him. It would be hypocritical of me to say you aren't allowed." the Namekian replied with a small smirk on his face. Gohan couldn't help but smile. This was why he really looked up to his master. "Thanks, Piccolo-san!"


End file.
